


a gap in temperature between changed hearts

by withlovelux



Series: i luv(ed) u, srry [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: !! SAD STORY WITH A SAD ENDING !!, Angst, Based on a LOONA song, How Do I Tag, M/M, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Pining, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, emotional distress, i had to write this or it was gonna haunt my dreams, i think, im not entirely sure lol soz, like a shit storm of angst, no beta we burn like l'manburg, sapnap is a good friend, seriously blease be careful i dont wanna make more people cry then i have to, stan loona
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withlovelux/pseuds/withlovelux
Summary: George wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions- he knew, his friends knew, his fans knew. So as he recalled warm feeling bubbling in his chest earlier in the day, creeping up his throat as he listened to his best friend ramble about something-or-other, he wasn’t sure what to do.Inspired by the hidden track on LOONA’s mini-album (#),Day & Night./* aka i listened to day & night and went “this would work with dnf wouldnt it. fuck now i need to write it or its gonna haunt me” and now here we are. */
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: i luv(ed) u, srry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164638
Comments: 40
Kudos: 154





	1. thoughts of you (circle around me)

**Author's Note:**

> funky lil note: while i don't ship dnf, i am writing this bc a) my brain fucking hates me, b) day & night by loona slaps, and c) i've been reading lucky charm and heat waves finished not too long ago so im still kinda living off of those fics so dnf was the first thing my mind went to when i thought of this idea
> 
> if either cc says that theyre uncomfortable, this will be taken down immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit feb. 15, 21: minor formatting fixes  
> edit mar. 07, 21: minor spelling/grammar corrections

Cat was screaming again.

George groaned as he sat up, forcing his body to move away from the warmth of his bed as his cat screeched through the empty flat. Rubbing at his eyes, he stumbled through the hall into his kitchen, soft fur weaving between his legs as he found the cat food. 

“Cat, can you calm down,” he mumbled sleepily as he dumped the can into the food bowl, movements messy as he set it down on the floor. George grabbed a small yogurt from his refrigerator and cracked it open, searching for a spoon as his phone screen lit up.

Spoon hanging out of his mouth, George glanced at the message on his home screen, gently taunting him early in the morning.

**Dream** you awake yet?

 **Dream** please tell me i didnt wake up this early for you to still be asleep

 **Dream** george its 3am please be awake

He chuckled lightly as he opened the messaging app, tapping out a reply with sleep-ridden fingers before setting his phone down to finish his small breakfast. 

**George** i’ll be on in a minute

The cold winter air nipped at his heels as he wandered back to his room, pulling on a hoodie in an attempt to hide from the chill that was so intent on following him around. George settled in front of his PC, powering it on and signing in. He navigated to TeamSpeak, joining the call with Dream waiting.

_“George!”_ His friend’s bright voice called through his headphones, which were askew on his head. _“Oh my god, dude, I thought you weren’t going to get up for a second there.”_

“I’m not Sapnap, Dream. It’s not like I’m getting up at two in the morning to talk to you guys,” George quipped back, tone light and airy despite the heavy feeling in his bones. Dream wheezed into his mic as a small smile creeped onto George’s lips at the sound. 

They chatted for a few minutes, complaining about how Sapnap was taking forever and talking about something stupid Tommy said the other day. _“Oh, wait I_ have _to tell you this story- so you know how I was having lunch with my mom and Drista the other day? I think we were talking about dogs, and…”_

  
His friend’s voice played in the background of George’s thoughts as he got lost in his own mind. George knew that Dream was an animated person, very active and expressive despite George only knowing him as a voice in his headset most days. He could imagine the way that his friend leaned forwards in his chair with interest when something happened in-game, the way he moved his hands as he told a story or went on a tangent, the way he licked his lips with focus as something intense happened-

George was startled out of his stupor as Dream shouted his name into his headset. _“You’re still a bit tired, aren’t you?”_ Dream chided lightly, his voice lilting upwards teasingly. _“Couldn’t even wake up properly for me.”_

“Leave me alone,” George mumbled feeling a flush creep up his neck slowly. What was he thinking? Dream was a friend. As much as he hoped that one day, during a Discord call or _something,_ Dream would just turn on his camera, there wasn’t a reason for him to thinking about his best friend like that. 

Laughing at his friend’s slight embarrassment, Dream continued with his story, familiar inflections appearing in his voice as he continued. At the thought of it, George felt something bubble beneath his skin, an emotion he wasn’t entirely sure of. Affection? Maybe, he thought to himself as Sapnap joined the call. 

And so that small spark burned out from the cold January winds, accompanied by warm laughter and familiar teasing.

_1._

He watched as the lights in his PC slowly faded away, and his bones felt heavy from the day. Standing up, George stretched a bit, sighing as Cat jumped up on his desk, collapsing elegantly onto his keyboard in a demand for attention. He glanced at the time and frowned, scratching the underside of his cat’s chin as he thought. 

While he hadn’t streamed today, Sapnap had decided to try speedrunning Minecraft on stream, which turned into a very loud three hours of Dream and George giving the youngest of the trio shit as he struggled through the game. In typical fashion, as the stream ended with the three of them wishing chat a good day and rattling off answers and replied to final donations, the call fell quiet, the adrenaline fading from their systems without an audience to entertain. 

Small talk rumbled through his headset, and George had rubbed the side of his face gently as he spaced out, gaze turning to his window as he watched the tree branches dance with the wind in an elegant waltz, occasionally stepping on one another's toes and laughing about it gently. 

Eventually, returning to reality after a couple minutes, he had bid his friends a soft farewell and a promise to text them later. The weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders for a moment, reminding him of Atlas with the sky on his back. 

_Inhale-_

_-exhale._

And so George turned off his PC and rose to his feet, his cat gathered in his arms as he wandered into the kitchen. Paws gently hit his chest as he dropped Cat on the counter, shuffling around to find the dry food. However his endevor proved futile, and George scowled as he tried to remember where he had shoved the container earlier in the day. 

Shaking his head, he turned back to Cat, who was looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, you’re going to have to wait a bit,” George apologized softly, cupping the pet’s face in his hands affectionately.

Affection.

_-the way that his friend leaned forwards in his chair with interest when something happened in-game, the way he moved his hands as he told a story or went on a tangent, the way he licked his lips with focus as something intense happened-_

And George was sent reeling back, shock circulating through his system at the memory of those thoughts. George wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions- he knew, his friends knew, his fans knew. So as he recalled a warm feeling bubbling in his chest earlier in the day, creeping up his throat as he listened to his best friend ramble about something-or-other, he wasn’t sure what to do.

_Maybe it’s just platonic,_ he thought to himself, turning to grab a granola bar from a cabinet. _Maybe it wasn’t even affection._

_But what if-_

He grabbed his phone and opened Sapnap’s contact, panic rushing to his head and washing over his entirety. Words started to flow, sentences like ‘ _I_ _don’t know what the hell is going on’_ and ‘ _What’s happening to me?’_ appearing in the chat box.

George suddenly drew his lip into his mouth, chewing on it gently as he thought to himself _What if he tells Dream about this, for whatever reason?_

Just as quickly as it appeared, the message was deleted in his panic. Along with the absence of his- what, confession?- came the absence of his panic, fading away with the accompanying thoughts. George blinked a few times from the abruptness of it all, muscles stiff as he braced himself against the back of his counter. He gently pushed himself off of the cool surface, running a hand through his hair as he asked himself _what the fuck was that?_

Yes, George wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions, and he certainly wasn’t the best at expressing those emotions. But he’s at least able to identify what those emotions are on a regular basis, contrary to popular belief. So with this sudden bout of- whatever the hell it was- brought with it a feeling of frustration with himself. 

The silence of his apartment was deafening, the rise and fall of his chest all too loud as he mulled over what had just happened. Panic replaced by frustration replaced with confusion- _what a lovely combination._

In lieu of searching for an answer, George simply grabbed his phone and collapsed onto his couch, opening Twitter and refreshing his feed a couple times. But all he got was a DM notification from a friend, and an invitation. He felt the corners of his lips turn upwards as he opened the conversation, and typed out a quick response.

Maybe he could simply forget this ever happened.


	2. i knew it all along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I knew it all along  
>  That it’d end up like this  
> Everything was so obvious  
> I know it’s a fact I’ve been feeling  
> So why does it just hit me now_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit feb. 15, 21: minor formatting fixes

_“George! Welcome to ‘Fuck the Americans’ day on the SMP!”_ Wilbur greeted warmly, his sprite crouching in front of George’s in welcome. He heard Tubbo and Tommy cheer in the background, and Eret laughed lightly along with them. 

“European supremacy,” George said in response, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. It was supposed to be a fun day- he was going to enjoy this.

He watched as Tommy ran up to Fundy and hit him with a stick, fake offense coloring Fundy’s tone of voice. Wilbur chuckled deeply, and Eret egged Fundy on from a distance as Niki got online. Common greetings flew through the air, familiar voices and familiar icons sitting in the voice call. Green rings popped up around profile pictures as Fundy killed Tommy, hysterical laughter filling the call. 

Around an hour passed by without George noticing, a kind distraction keeping his emotions at bay. Lighthearted fun was had, jokes passed around as their sprites danced around the server without a care in the world.

_“Did I miss a party or something?”_ He heard someone say as a familiar sound rang through his headphones. Silence filled the call at the notice of an intruder as Sapnap joined the server, the yellow notification taunting all members of the call.

George suppressed slight laughter, biting his lip as he watched Wilbur walk up to his friend. _“No yeehaw bitches allowed,”_ Wilbur grumbled as he hit Sapnap with a stick, the later of the two screaming as he ran away. 

“It’s not like he gets any bitches, so why should it matter?” George chuckled, leaning his head against his hand. 

_“It’s not like_ you _get any bitches either,”_ Sapnap quipped back, his voice stressing his words as he hit George’s sprite with his fist. 

A light laugh fell from his lips as Tommy exclaimed, _“well I get all the women, so of course George doesn’t have any,”_ a templated retort sitting beneath his tongue, unused. Tommy’s words were met with a light scoff and silence, and George could feel that someone was going to say _something._

_“Do you have anything to say to that, George?”_ Fundy asked, curiosity coloring his tone at George’s silence. Instead of responding, he simply hummed noncommittally, unwilling to give an answer. 

They let it drop after that.

But that didn’t mean that a familiar shock of electricity jolted under his skin.

_2._

He collapsed onto his bed as Cat watched him with interest, draped across his keyboard from across the room. George’s forearm fell across his eyes as he sighed, feeling his phone vibrate on the mattress next to him. 

George couldn’t be bothered to check it.

A couple minutes of silence passed, the lack of sound haunting him as he rolled onto his side, teasing the blanket between his fingers. _“Do you have anything to say to that, George?”_ rang through his head, and he bit his lip as he turned to look at his phone.

The screen turned on, and he watched a message from Dream appear in his notifications. 

George grumbled and groaned to himself, emotional turmoil churning his gut as he sat up. He looked at the clock sitting on his night stand, taunting him with the bright _02:27_ on the screen. Grabbing his phone as he stood up, George peeked at the message his friend had sent him.

**Dream** go to sleep >:/

The British man scoffed and mumbled to himself, “yeah, like I wasn’t trying to do that.” He padded through his flat as Cat brushed against his legs, causing him to stumble on occasion. George opened up his medicine cabinet and rummaged through its contents for a few minutes, hoping that he hadn’t run out. 

With a small gasp of success, George withdrew the small bottle of melatonin, unscrewing the lid and popping a couple of the gummies into his mouth before haphazardly wandering back to bed, leaving the container open as he knocked it over as he left. 

George slipped into his bed, a familiar blanket wrapping around his shoulders comfortingly as he felt Cat jump up onto the bed, settling against the small of his back. 

He could almost hear the dust settle, the only interruption of this silent symphony being the slight twitch of his fingers, curling gently as he stared through them at his wall. The boxes he never bothered to move sat still in the corner of his eyes, familiarly distant as he felt Cat move against his back ever so slightly.

A potted plant his mother had gifted him sat atop the pile, leaves browning at the edges ever so slightly due to his own forgetfulness. He bit his lip, a gentle pit of guilt lodging in his throat. 

Mind wandering, thoughts slow and tired, George eventually came to the topic he had been avidly avoiding for the past few hours. 

_“Do you have anything to say to that, George?”_ _  
_

_  
_ Perhaps he did. Maybe he did have something to say to that- that yes, maybe he liked someone he shouldn’t, throwing a rock at the proverbial mirror that was his and Dream’s relationship. Because he knew, all he knew was that should he accept these emotions that he shoved under the waves, bottled up and threw into the ocean, everything would slowly fall apart.

He could already feel the strings slipping through his fingers at the mere thought of it all.

And so George urged his tired mind to forget about that affection, those emotions he was so out of touch with. But his singular brain cell was stubborn, refusing the move away from the electricity humming beneath his skin. 

“Fuck it,” he finally muttered to himself, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling of his flat. The symphony fell silent, the dust dancing through the air rushing off the ballroom floor as he burst through the doors unannounced. “If this is a nightmare, I never want to wake up.”

_2._

_A familiar pair of goggles rest against his forehead, his t-shirt branded with his simple logo. George turned around, the bird cage he was trapped in seemingly getting smaller and smaller with every movement._

_He crossed the cold metal floor, ratty old shoes pinching his toes with every step. Sitting delicately on the floor was a mask, a marker cast aside haphazardly, still uncapped from the previous user’s disregard._

_George picked up the mask hesitantly, hand initially flinching away as if it was a burning flame, the smoke choking him and filling up his lungs. As he held it, he rubbed his thumb along the side, black ink smudging his finger as he stared at the item in his hands._

_The smile drawn on it was messy, the ink wet and trailing down the white background like tears running down pale cheeks. It felt hauntingly familiar, heavy and wellmade in his hands. George’s eyebrows pinched together as he rubbed the back of his heel with his other foot, darkness closing in from all sides as he felt panic blossom atop his ribs, burying its thorns into his sides._

_As he turned the mask over in his hands, feeling the wet ink stain his hands, George felt a spark behind his eyes, yellows flooding his vision for a split second. He flinched back, dropping the porcelain mask in his hands, listening as it shattered against the metal cage._

_George opened his eyes, and a broken smile stared back at him._

_The cage got smaller and smaller, suffocating him as it mercilessly robbed him of oxygen, the familiar thorns of panic creeping up his chest and wrapping around his throat. George reached out with his left arm, looking to grab something,_ anything- _his hand was stained black from the ink, the darkness creeping up his arm as he opened his mouth to scream-_

“If this is a nightmare, I never want to wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i initially made the outline for this on my school account, and i said fuck like five times in it, so i got a gaggle email that was like "we found a document with inappropriate content" and i panicked and deleted the doc ._. but then i recovered it and copy and pasted the entire thing, and i've felt like a clown ever since wwww  
> in other news, im probably not going to update two days in a row again bc i just wrote this chapter instead of doing my french project so,,,,,, if you don't hear from me for a bit don't be surprised its probably bc i hate school so much and half of my teachers are assholes :D


	3. its a fact-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George wanted to be brave. He wanted to be so fucking brave. He wanted to tear these flowers out of his ribs and cough up the rose petals, watching as they fall from his parted lips, set aflame as they hit the tile floor. 
> 
> But George isn’t good at being brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i split this chapter up into two parts, so i dont know when im going to be posting part 2.
> 
> edit feb. 15, 21: changed "years" to "months" for timeline consitency, minor formatting fixes

A couple weeks pass, calm and quiet as the month passes by, January disappearing like burning rose petals. George rises with the sun, makes his breakfast, and begins the daily ritual of talking to his best friends. It’s peaceful and somewhat domestic, quelling a lonely cavity in his chest aching to be filled. 

George closes his door and pulls his mask down, tucking it under his chin as he walked over to the small table in the kitchen, settling his groceries down on the smooth wooden surface. Cat brushes against the back of his legs, soft fur rubbing against his calves. He feels a small smile pull at his lips as he reaches down and scratches beneath the cat’s chin for a moment or two.

He puts away his groceries, motions quiet and flat silent aside from the sound of Cat trotting down the hallway leisurely. George’s mind wanders, and for some reason, it pulls a memory from the tall file cabinet tucked in the back of his head, collecting dust between the pages as the printed ink fades with time. 

It was some months ago, but George can remember it vividly. Late August nights, basking in the lowlight of his flat at two in the morning, chatting with Sapnap as he complained about how late one of his lectures were and how he could be asleep by now. _“But it’s only, what, nine in the evening where you are? That’s way to early to go to sleep, dude,”_ the words had tumbled from his loose mouth, a steaming cup of tea sitting on his desk as his only source of caffeine. 

_“At least I’d be able to get in, like, six or seven hours of sleep before I would wake up to talk to your dumb ass again,”_ Sapnap quipped, and George could hear the grin in his words. _“Speaking of sleep, what are you doing awake, anyway? You’re the one who’s supposed to have a relatively normal sleep schedule.”_

George remembers humming gently, stirring his tea with the spoon he had set on his desk. _“It’s cold out,”_ he had supplied, his words failing to describe what he was feeling. It was almost melancholy, the stinging in his head, refusing to leave him alone as if it were a ghost trailing behind him. 

A gentle silence fell over the two for a moment, still in the lack of words. 

_“So you know how I’m taking that Expository Writing class? Well, we were talking about poetry the other day,”_ his friend remarked, gently setting aside a topic they never breached in favor of something lighter. That’s what he loves about Sapnap; he knows when to stop. 

But he also knows when to push.

_“Yeah?”_ George said mindlessly as he cupped his tea in his hands, drawing his knees towards his chest and tucking his feet onto the edge of his chair.

_“We had to pick a couple lines we liked, and I asked my friend- he’s an English major- for something and he handed me this_ thick _book and was like ‘Here, young Padawan, take this’.”_

He laughed lightly, the sound breathy and tired in George’s headset before he continued. _“Anyway, it was actually really good! I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did.”_

 _  
__  
__“Was it one author or was it a general poetry book? Like, a compilation?”_

 _  
__  
__“I think it was all from one person; Emily Dickinson, actually. We had to read some of her stuff for AP Lang.,”_ Sapnap said quietly, the sound of his keyboard gentle music in the background as he started to look up something or other.

_“Wait, if you took this AP Lang. course, then why did you take Expository Writing?”_

_  
__  
_Sapnap snorted, finding George’s lack of awareness surrounding the American education system entertaining. _“I didn’t take AP Lit., my guidance counsellor wouldn’t let me, for some reason. Anyway, I found the poem, and I can send you a link if you want?”_

George simply hummed in confirmation. _“I’ll check it out later.”_ He blew on his tea before taking a small sip, bones heavy as he moved his fingers ever so slightly to tilt the mug ever so gently. A discord notification rang through his ears as Sapnap’s icon appeared on his screen with a link attached, the call falling into a comfortable quiet. 

The warm air of the night was crisp as George cracked open a window, faint sounds from the street below comforting him as his eyelids began to feel heavy-

And he was pulled out of the memory, his phone vibrating on the kitchen counter like its life was depending on him picking it up. Sighing, George walked over, moving to deny the call until he saw who it was.

_Sapnap._

_3._

_George left the call, the hole in his chest getting a little bigger, a little emptier with every passing second. The once crisp air felt stale, the soft ambient noises from the street suffocating as his monitors provided the only source of light in his apartment._

_A message from his friend popped up on the monitor, taunting him with fake words and fake concern. Because, at the end of the day, they didn’t have that same connection, did they? Sapnap was probably just keeping him company out of guilt, a sad twenty-something man sitting in silence at the tail end of the summer-_

_He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood._

No, _he had told himself, running a hand through his greasy hair as he pulled his headset off his ears._ We’re better then that.

  
  
 _George silently reached for his mouse, blindly clicking on the shining link in their DMs, waiting patiently for him. He read the words, his tired mind barely registering them as English._ Cool, _he typed back evenly, fingers slow as they flirted with the keys._

_And he crashed on his desk, spilling his tea as it dripped over the side of his desk, the mug rolling off and breaking into thousands of pieces._

_3._

_He found pieces of the mug buried in the bottom of his foot weeks later._

_3._

“Hey, what’s up?” George asked, running a hand through his hair. “You never call me around this time. Is everything ok?” He looked out the window as he heard Sapnap sigh, rain falling gently against is window. The corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly, and George turned back towards the wall he had initially been facing.

_“I feel like I should be the one asking you that question.”_ George felt his eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly at his friend’s words.

“But you’re the one who called me.”

  
In the silence between them, George could almost see Sapnap rolling his eyes, even though he didn't have an image to pin to the voice. _“You’ve been kind of weird, lately, George. Distant. I know something’s up,”_ his friend said, mild concern inflecting in his voice. 

“Everything’s fine, dude.” He forced a chuckle into his voice, words strained as he hoped that Sapnap wouldn’t comment on his tone. “I’m honestly not sure why you’re worried.” 

He was hoping, and hoping, and _hoping-_

_“Cut the shit, George. Remember Wilbur’s stream? The one where Tommy was talking about how ‘he got all the women and that’s why George is single’, and you didn’t say anything? What the fuck’s been up since then?”_

And just like during the stream, George was silent. 

_“Fucking hell, dude,”_ Sapnap groaned, tired with George’s antics. _“If something’s wrong, just tell me, dude.”_  
  


_3._

George wanted to be brave. He wanted to be so fucking brave. He wanted to tear these flowers out of his ribs and cough up the rose petals, watching as they fall from his parted lips, set aflame as they hit the tile floor. 

But George isn’t good at being brave.

George, for all his skill and all his intelligence, is frail and weak and a coward in all meanings of the word. He’s good at compartmentalizing and he’s good at forgetting, good at shoving things under the waves as they slowly eat away at him like maggots to an open body.

So when Sapnap, one of his closest friends, asks George to tell him if something is wrong, George doesn’t know what to do. 

He never knew.

_3._

“I-” he started, the words scratching and clawing at his throat to be let out. But he kept them chained up, locked away in that small bird cage. 

But Sapnap was patient.

“I don’t know,” George confessed, the words burning on his chapped lips. “I don’t know, Nick.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i write this while watching the 5up 'Baba is You' stream? yes. did i have a fucking amazing time? also yes, i love 5up and fundy's friendship. (wfjuiwefhuw i love 5up hes my comfort streamer)


	4. -i've been feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re not going to tell him because you’re afraid?”
> 
> “Isn’t that why so many relationships fail?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit feb. 15, 21: minor formatting fixes

_“What don’t you know, George?”_ Sapnap prompted, words soft and slightly hesitant.

He shook his head, forgetting for a moment that no, Sapnap couldn’t actually _see_ him. So George bit the inside of his cheek and stared out the window, rain rolling down the glass slowly. “I don’t know how I’ve been feeling.”

_“Take a stab at it.”_

  
  
And once again, the two of them fell into silence as George thought to himself, poison painted on his lips as he opened them to speak. But his vocal chords failed him, to his frustration. 

“I’ve just been really- fuck, what’s the word,” he began, the words a waterfall coming out of his mouth. “-Frustrated? It’s like there’s something rattling in my chest whenever I talk to him.”

The line went dead, a faint buzz and crackle dancing with his eardrum. George could hear his own breaths, and he took the time to continue putting away his groceries. He put the milk in the fridge, shoved the bread in the bread box, put the potatoes in the pantry-

_“Who’s ‘him’?”_ Sapnap asked suddenly, voice pensive and flat. 

  
George hummed lightly. “I think you know who I’m talking about.”

_“Don’t make me say it, dude.”_

  
  
“Well, you’re gonna have to,” George snapped, the boiling water spilling over the lip of the pot.

This sort of silence was becoming eerily familiar to him, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he shoved things into cupboards aggressively, waiting for a single sound to be made by someone thousands of miles away. 

_“So you like Dream?”_ Sapnap finally said, and it sounded like it hurt him to say it. _“I don’t know why I’m surprised, honestly.”_

  
“Wait, what?” 

  
_“Maybe I’m just surprised that it happened_ now _and not earlier-”_

  
“Wait, wait, wait, Sapnap, what the hell are you _talking_ about?” George backpedalled, confusion high in his tone. “‘Surprised that it happened-’ the fuck are you saying? Were you, what, expecting for me to- end up like this?”

  
  
Sapnap chuckled warmly over the line. _“You can say ‘like’, George, it’s not a slur or anything.”_

  
  
“I know, but- it’s just weird,” George groaned into the receiver. He dragged a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes gently. 

He bit his lip as Sapnap began again, his words coiling tightly around his lungs and suffocating him. _“So, are you going to tell him?”_ Sapnap asked gently, bending the rules they had subconsciously created. _“I don’t think he’ll freak out or anything.”_

  
“But that’s the thing- I don’t know how he’ll react.”

  
  
_“So you’re not going to tell him because you’re afraid?”_

  
  
“Isn’t that why so many relationships fail?” George shot back, tongue sharp as frustration flared in his chest again. “I’m not brave, Sapnap- I’m a coward. I’m afraid of things I can’t control, and I’m afraid of other people. I know that this is essentially a ticking time bomb, but I’m worried that if I do tell him, everything will just fall apart.”   
  


That same fucking silence fell over them, and George, finished with blindly shoving things into cupboards and cabinets aggressively, wandered over to his couch and collapsed onto the cushions. Cat stared at him curiously, eventually jumping up and curling up beside him. 

_“Shut up,”_ Sapnap finally said, tense minutes being lost to the past in their frustration.

  
  
George frowned. “I didn’t say anythi-”

  
  
_“Shut. Up,”_ his friend seethed. _Ah,_ George thought to himself. _He finally snapped. “I swear, we’ve been going in circles for ages, George, and you’re not getting the fucking point. Maybe you need to take that risk!”_ Sapnap exclaimed, voice rising with his anger.

_“Take that fucking risk, George! You’re never going to know if he feels the same way if you never tell him. And yeah, maybe you’re going to fuck everything up, and maybe everything is going to come crashing down and set on fire. But that’s what’s great about relationships- you never know what you’re going to get.”_

  
And now, it was George’s turn to lead in this Viennese Waltz, gripping his friend by the shoulders and leading him around the room. “That’s why I’m scared, you idiot. I’m scared that I’m going to fuck everything up, because we’re so close to perfect. It’d hurt to throw that friendship away just to see if he feels the same. Have a nice rest of your day, Nick, but I have things I need to attend to.” 

  
So he hung up. The call screen faded from his phone screen, and George sighed as his hand fell into his lap. What the _fuck_ was that? Why the hell did he care so much? It wasn’t like he would actually get impacted by this. George felt his phone vibrate in his hand, a Snapchat notification lighting up his screen. He grimaced and cleared the notification, determined to forget that this ever happened. 

_4._

Some time passed, George wasn’t sure how long it had been since that conversation with Sapnap. He strayed from the online world, taking to reading books and cleaning his flat more than sitting down and calling with his friends. Confused tweets and donations pestered him the few times he streamed, questions of _“Where have you been?”_ and _“Is something wrong?”_ taking up the majority of his streams.

Discord messages, texts, phone calls all went ignored. He essentially fell off the face of the earth, bones heavy as he wandered around the flat. George was falling apart, he knew that much- fear wrapping its cold claws around him and dragging him under the water, watching him drown as he tried to scream, the water filling his lungs ever so slowly. 

January ended and February began- George’s bones felt heavy and his mind was numb, body frail and lips chapped due to his own inability to take care of himself. Cat, the one thing keeping him sane, curled up on his lap as he laid still on his couch, the animal in much better condition then her owner. Thin fingers pulled through soft fur, and George smiled.

He was determined to forget, even if it meant that everything burned down. 

On the small table before him, his phone vibrated, a text he was all too familiar with appearing on his screen. 

**Dream** please just tell me that youre ok

**Dream** george its been weeks

**Dream** everyones worried dude please just text be back sometime ok

George bit his lip.

Maybe he shouldn’t forget- not yet, at least.

_4._

**George** call me in an hour.

_4._

_“George?”_ Dream’s voice echoed in his ear, filled with static as he spoke. George inhaled slowly, exhaling as he steeled his resolve.

“Hey,” he said blandly, tone breaking from the weight of it all. “Hey, Dream.”

  
And his friend promptly exploded. _“Where the hell have you_ been _, George? I’ve been worried sick about you! You can’t- you can’t just fall off the face of the earth like that, especially now!”_ Dream yelled, worry streaking through his words in a way that not even George could ignore. He felt a small smile tug at his lips, a familiar warmth blooming in his chest at the sound of Dream’s voice.

“Sorry about that. I’ve just- been dealing with some stuff,” he ended lamely, his words failing him as he struggled to piece together what he wanted to say. “I, uh- wanted to talk to you, I guess.”

  
_“I would say that it’s fine, but honestly, it’s not, George. It’s been more than two weeks, dude. I- someone could-”_

“Someone could what, Dream?” The words fell apathetically from his lips before he could even process what he was going to say.

_“Someone could die and be forgotten in two weeks, George. At least on the internet, they can.”_

And the line went quiet. A realisation that _fuck, it’s been that long,_ startling George out of his stupor, and he stood up as he ran a hand through his hair, licking his lips. The fog faded a bit, clearing his brain ever so slightly as he looked at the calender plastered on his wall.

It was getting close to the end of February. 

“Shit, Dream I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for that long, _fuck,_ I’m so sorry.”

  
  
Dream took a moment to respond, seeming to hesitate before speaking. _“Are you okay, George? You aren’t usually this distant.”_

George breathed, biting his lip as he looked out the window. 

It was snowing. 

  
“Yeah,” he said, the lie slipping through his teeth easily. “I’m fine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was literally so rushed, i'm so sorry i dont know how to pace things properly wwww


	5. oxygen ; helium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His ribs ached as flowers bloomed between his bones, their beautiful thorns digging into his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote half of this, started crying while writing it, and then finished it.  
> real question is: can you tell where i started crying
> 
> edit feb. 15, 21: minor formatting fixes

“Yeah,” he said, the lie slipping through his teeth easily. “I’m fine.”

_“You don’t sound fine,”_ Dream shot back, words hitting close to his chest. The concern in his voice masked the underlying anger, a burning flame George was too scared to touch. 

George went silent, the fuzzy static of the phone call buzzing in his ears like a taunting ghost. _“Take that fucking risk, George,”_ he remembers Sapnap saying, the words singing his fingertips. “Maybe I’m not fine,” George said quietly, reaching down to pet the cat pushing against his legs.

_“Then tell me what’s_ wrong _, George. I want to help you, if I can.”_

  
“What if I don’t want help?” He mumbled absentmindedly, Cat purring as his fingers dragged through white and grey fur. The words had slipped out before he could register them, and the realisation of what he had said dawned on him in Dream’s silence.

They seemed to sit in silence a lot these days.

_“Why wouldn’t you want help?”_ His _friend_ asked, obviously tired despite having only been on the phone for what, ten minutes? _“If it’s this big of an issue, shouldn’t you want help?”_

“That’s what’s wrong, Dream- I want help, but I don’t want help. Do you get my drift?”

  
_“Honestly? No.”_

  
_Honestly._

George inhaled sharply, underlying guilt carving a hole in his chest. “I don’t want to waste your time at this point, Dream. I know you value honesty.” The words felt like a confession, burning his tongue and lighting rose petals aflame, throwing wine bottles against marble walls as the deep red liquid stained the white and grey. 

He licked his chapped lips as Dream voiced his confusion, the words blurry and low-quality in his ears. Fuck, was he really going to do this? George’s fingers, tucked behind his cat’s ear, froze, joints locking as Cat moved ever so slightly. 

_“Then be honest, George,”_ Dream eventually sighed, and George could hear him rubbing his eyes through the receiver. He was so _tired_ of this, of holding Dream at arms length as they spun around the ballroom, classical music echoing through the grand hall.

But his throat went dry, the words refusing to form out of fear. _“Take that fucking risk, George!”_

“I-” George began, but his mouth closed against his will. Panic coursed through his veins, weighing him down and keeping him from speaking.

_“You’re never going to know if he feels the same way if you never tell him. And yeah, maybe you’re going to fuck everything up-”_ George steeled himself, recalling the words Sapnap had thrown at him weeks ago. He could recall it like yesterday, the way the thorns had dug into his sides and trapped him in place, curling around his neck and caressing his cheek. _“-and maybe everything is going to come crashing down and set on fire.”_

He took a deep breath and tried again. “You-” but his words failed him, voice cracking and giving out as his eyes burned. 

George wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions- he knew, his friends knew, his fans knew. 

But when he opened his mouth, his emotions overflowing as the sink filled to the brim, the tap still going as the sunrise reflected in the water, falling to the floor and hitting the cold tile, George coughed up the rose petals trapped in his lungs. 

“I don’t think I’ve felt like this before, honestly,” the words poured out of him, poetic and warm as they dripped from his lips like red wine. “It feels like there's a hole in my chest and like my lungs aren’t big enough, like I don’t have enough oxygen. But then you come along, and I can breathe again. 

“Sometimes I can’t sleep at night, and I just think. I think about content ideas, I think about song lyrics I saw years ago. I think about what the world has come to and how everything is falling apart and coming together all at once, and I think about how I feel. But I always come back to you- thoughts of you circling my head. They run around me all day, all night, and it feels like they burn me when I reach out in interest.”

  
  
Dream was silent for a while, seemingly rolling the confession between his fingers as he considered his friend. _“What do you mean,”_ he said after a set of tense minutes, the phrase sounding more like a statement then a question.

“I’m saying,” George said slowly, the words pulling at his lips as they pleaded to be let out. “That I need you like oxygen; you’re the one who keeps me breathing.” 

_“...What?”_ His friend asked, the word tentative in tone. _“Actually, don’t answer that. I’m- what the fuck?”_

  
And George went cold as Cat jumped off his lap and trotted away. 

_Actually, don’t answer that. I’m- what the fuck?_

No. No, no, no, no, _no-_ this wasn’t happening. George swore up and down to himself, looking up at the ceiling and biting his lip as his eyes _burned._ This wasn’t happening.

Please, just let this be a nightmare.

  
“I’m sorry I just- I shouldn’t have said anything, sorry, sorry. Just forget I said anything,” George stumbled over his words as he raced to say them, panic pounding against his temples. He didn’t want to lose Dream- not like this.

_“I can’t just_ forget _something like that, George. I’m- holy shit. What the fuck? What the fuck.”_ Silence fell over the two as George’s vision blurred, his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. George wasn’t the best at reading people, especially over phone calls, so all he had to hold on to were his friend’s words and shocked tone. He bit his lips as he will the tears to go away, for his cheeks to stay dry, for everything to be fine. But since when did George get what he wanted?

Dream sighed audibly. _“Listen, George, I don’t-”_

  
  
“I know.” 

  
_“...You know.”_

George’s hand reached up and tugged on his earlobe, motions quiet and unsure. “Yeah. I- I wasn’t really expecting anything, you know? I was just going to sit on this and wait until it went away. I just- I think it needs a bit more time.”

  
_“Then let’s give it time.”_ George was dumbfounded by his response, the words heavy and laced with something George couldn’t identify. _“You said that you wanted to sit on it until it went away, so let’s do that. Let’s say… two months? So, first week of April, then.”_

  
“What about- what about manhunts, and- and streams, and Twitter? People are going to notice.” 

  
_“I don’t care about the people, George,”_ Dream snapped, tense in tone and structure. _“I don’t want to lose you like this, so if that means that we can’t talk to each other for a couple months for everything to be normal, then so be it.”_   
  


George hesitate before muttering his agreement. His ribs ached as flowers bloomed between his bones, their beautiful thorns digging into his lungs. They talked about the rules, trotting around one another hesitantly. There wouldn’t be a manhunt for those months, and they wouldn’t be able to make any weird jokes on Twitter. Stream appearances would die down- and George knew that the fans would notice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Everything was going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha emotional distress go brr


	6. when will i be able to stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepless nights, hollow from the loneliness. Guilt haunted him like a regretful spirit, the dust coating his flat seeping into him as he stared out his window for days on end. His nights were peacefully chaotic, thoughts circling around him like a whirlwind of pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit feb. 15, 21: minor formatting fixes

**lu** _@tbtopt -_

has anyone else thought that it’s kinda weird that george + dream have been,, idk avoiding eachother or sm

_00:09 - Feb 21, 2021 - Twitter for iPhone_

**bubblegum b!tch** _@achoouwu --_

yeah its been kinda weird

im a bit worried ngl like did somethin happen??

**kacy** _@stanloona ---_

maybe they just have their own things to deal with rn? things have been kinda hectic so idk maybe theyve just been busy

**stream day &night ** _@gowonsupremacy ----_

idk but theyve had some weird vibes every time theyve been on a stream together

_6._

**XxEnvy** _@heartdrop_

lmao he’s never gonna see this but _@dreamwastaken_ did u and gogy break up or sm

_17:22 - Mar 03, 2021 - Twitter Web App_

**xiao** _@owaxiawa -_

maybe dont joke abt that? we dont know whats been happening so,,, yeah

**XxEnvy** _@heartdrop --_

chill dude its obviously a joke

_6._

**space ghost** _@coasttocoast_

 _@dreamwastaken @sapnapalt_ where’s gogy?? its been ages since you guys streamed together?

_09:57 - Mar 28, 2021 - Twitter for Android_

_6._

**alex is (not) tall** _@anyaskers_

missing feral boys hours are: open 24/7 :-/

_23:09 - Apr 04, 2021 - Twitter Web App_

**taylor** _@misstaylor69 -_

o7 for feral bois they will be missed

**t.t** _@stanloona --_

wait what happened??

**alex is (not) tall** _@anyaskers ---_

basically george kinda vanished for 2 weeks in january and no one really knows what happened. he came back in the middle of february but disappeared-

**alex is (not) tall** _@anyaskers ----_

-again during march. no one’s really seen him since and he hasnt been active on any platform aside from the occasional like or retweet.

**t.t** _@stanloona -----_

thanks for explaining www

_6._

Two months ago, George thought that everything was going to be okay. He had been curled up on his couch, tear tracks painted on his cheeks as he phone sat silently in his hand. Petals tucked between his ribs, burning at the edges as they invaded his lungs. 

He just wanted this all to be over, at this point.

The months had gone by without a single text from Dream, with Sapnap playing middle-man for them as they danced around one another in the few voice calls they’ve sat in together, tensions high in their voices and all occupants uncomfortable.

No one knew what had happened, but everyone knew that something polarized the two, pushing them apart both in the public eye and privately. Theory videos were posted, Twitter threads were made, Reddit posts upvoted and Tumblr posts reblogged. The internet was in chaos, and neither creator stepped in to calm the masses.

Instead, they sat in a voice call, quiet words escaping from parted lips as they watched everything they loved fall apart.

_“So,”_ Dream said, voice tired and hollow in George’s ears. _“What’s up?”_ It felt so casual, the way he said it- a beginning of a conversation, a new chance at this. George looked out his window, eyes tracing the new leaves blooming on the trees outside. 

He bit his lips, feeling his hands tremble as he gripped the hem of his sweatshirt. George didn’t want it to end- not like this, at least. He would much rather they have a fall out due to a difference of opinion, an argument or a joke taken a bit too far. He didn’t want to lose like this, a toxic confession and feelings unreciprocated. But they were too late- they were too far gone, and both of them knew it. 

All he had to do was cough it up.

“I’m sorry, Dream,” George said, voice low and empty. He felt his bottom lip tremble, a cavity in his side opening up as the flowers overflowed from his ribs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Silence.

It was oddly comforting, knowing that Dream was just as sad as he was because of this. Their friendship had been glorious- fragile, yes, but it had refracted the sunlight gorgeously. But George had dropped the vase on the floor, threw the rock at the mirror, post it note tacked on haphazardly saying _i luv u, srry._

“What do I call you now? A friend? A lover? An ex?” George spiraled, tears threatening to overflow. “What is this?”

  
  
And Dream didn’t say a thing for a considerable time- George didn’t know how long, not until Dream’s voice distracted him from his thoughts. _“We need to stop, George.”_

  
  
“...What?” His voice broke on the word, and the tears started to roll down his cheeks mercilessly. 

_“We can’t do this anymore, George. I’m- I’m sorry, dude. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”_

  
  
But it did anyway, didn’t it.

_6._

George was hopeful in February. He was hoping that this would all wash away, be abandoned as a memory from a darker time, a cassette tape collecting dust at the bottom of a box tucked away in a corner of the attic. He was hoping that one day they would look back on this and laugh at their stupidity, would joke about this with no real meaning behind their words.

George was hopeful in February. But hope is a fragile thing, a feather easily swept away by an onslaught of wind.

George was hopeful in February.

_6._

George fell off the face of the earth, spiraling, the pieces of his broken body strewn across his apartment. His sister came by and took Cat due to his own incompetence- his memory betrayed him more often then not, forgetting to feed the animal, forgetting to clean the litterbox.

The flat became overrun with plants- lowlight, easy to care for. The pothos on his desk curled its hands around his PC, the snake plant by his bed looking healthier than he was. Orchids, string of pearls, carnations, roses, spider plants, ivy- they buried their roots in the walls of his cage in an effort to add an ugly beauty to something of youth and age. 

Bones protruded from his skin; a lack of self care, he supposed. Sapnap’s concerned DMs sat unread in his notification center, calls left unanswered as the world cried _“Where did George go?”_

He didn’t care. 

Sleepless nights, hollow from the loneliness. Guilt haunted him like a regretful spirit, the dust coating his flat seeping into him as he stared out his window for days on end. His nights were peacefully chaotic, thoughts circling around him like a whirlwind of pain. 

George didn’t want to lose himself like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, i did finish writing this fic, thanks for asking.  
> im gonna post the other chapters over the next few days, so,,,,, have fun with that wwww  
> im thinking of making another fic in this same universe, bc theres some stuff i want to touch on that i couldnt in this one so,,,,,  
> look out for something inspired by eight by IU and handle it by twice?


	7. now i block out that light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George wandered further into the flat, familiar in all its disappointment. His pothos wrapped itself around his refrigerator and clung on tight, the snake plant in the corner by his bed standing proud in all its glory. The ivy ran along the walls, the swiss cheese plant healthy and flourishing in the corner despite the cold settling over the past month. George was familiar with these plants- they were his only friends, most days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this instead of paying attention in my math class so,, sorry if it's kinda shit  
> this is also the longest chapter thus far so,, have fun  
> edit: i said this when i first wrote the note and then wrote chapter 8 and realized that i lied

_ “Hey George- Dream gave me your number after you two… yeah. I just wanted to check in with you, since you’ve been kind of absent lately. Call me when you can, okay, dude?” _ _  
  
_

_ “George, call me when you can- seriously, I’m getting worried. Or, well,  _ more  _ worried, I guess. Try to take care of yourself, and again, call me as soon as you can. Oh, this is Sapnap, by the way. Not sure if I made that clear.”  _

_ “Dude, this is getting out of hand. It’s, what, July? You haven’t messaged me back, you haven’t called me, you haven’t streamed, you haven’t- Ah, I’m getting too angry, aren’t I? Just, please, George. Call me. Please.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “George, call me. Seriously. I’m not even asking at this point- just call me, dude. I don’t know what’s up with you, but all I know is that you’re alone and probably spiraling. Call me.” _

_ “I swear to Twitch Prime, George, if you’re fucking dead and never told any of us, I’m going to fly to England and kick your flat ass. It’s September, George- that’s- that’s way too long. Just-”  _ George heard Sapnap’s voice break in this one.  _ “-call me, George. Please. I’m- I can’t- ...Please, just call me when you can.”  _

That was the last voice mail his friend had sent him.

It was November now. The crisp air nipped at his heels as he wandered through London, no real destination in mind. George sighed, his breath forming a small cloud in front of him. He frowned, eyebrows pinching together as he stared at Sapnap’s contact, something he had saved to his phone with no real intention of using. 

Might as well use it now, he supposed. 

George clicked on the call button, raising the phone to his ear as he wandered into a cafe, ordering a coffee and a pain au chocolat. He sat down with his mug, the surface a clear white as he traced the rim of the cup with his ring finger, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. 

_ “Hello?”  _ Sapnap greeted, voice groggy and sleep-filled. George laughed lightly at the tone- it was around 16:30 in London, meaning that either Sapnap had woken up at 13:30 or had pulled an all-nighter.

“Hey, long time to see. Or talk, I supposed,” George said grabbing the phone with his free hand as he picked up the pain au chocolat delicately. “How have you been?”   
  


The line was silent for a solid minute, prompting George to say a tentative “Hello?” before biting into his dessert. 

_ “George?”  _ His friend phrased his name as a question, disbelief high in his tone. 

He laughed lightly, trying not to choke on his food. “The one and only. Sorry for not calling sooner, Sapnap. I- was dealing with some stuff,” he ended lamely, guilt building in his throat as familiar flowers dug into his sides. 

_ “Holy shit,”  _ the younger breathed, forcing another laugh out of George.  _ “Holy shit. Holy shit- what? You’re- what? Are you okay? What the hell happened, George? Where did you  _ go?  _ I was worried sick, you idiot! It’s been months since anyone heard from you, and I was scared that you-”  _ Sapnap’s voice broke, fear seeping into his tone as he rambled.

“I’m sorry I went dark like that, Sapnap. It was a bad move on my part. I was- ah, you remember what I told you in January?”

  
  
_ “About Dream? Yeah, sorry about that. I… didn’t give the best advice, that time. Sorry it kinda- shit, what’s the best- uh, sorry it kinda fell apart like it did.”  _

“Not your fault, that’s on me. Anyway,  _ that  _ happened, and I kind of spiraled, I guess. Stopped taking care of myself, bought a shit ton of plants, lived off of my savings for a couple months. Again, I’m really sorry for not calling sooner!” George’s voice felt strained as he forced joy into his tone, the concept of honesty six feet below him. 

Sapnap seemed to consider his words for a moment. _“It’s… fine, I guess. Are you going to start streaming again? Everyone misses you a lot,”_ his friend asked, voice brightening gently. The question caught George off guard- he was severely unprepared to answer something like that, and while he had an answer, he didn’t like the potential response to it.

“Uh, no, not really. I think that it was a bit too much for me, you know? I mean yeah,” George started rambling, unsure of himself as he spoke. “I enjoyed it a lot- met a bunch of amazing people, did some amazing things- I was happy. But I think that it’s not really something I can go back to, Sapnap. That era’s over for me.”

  
  
_“So what are you doing now?”_ Sapnap’s voice was more strained after a moment of silence, and George felt the guilt rise.

“I work as a game developer. Nintendo,” he tacked on needlessly, as if Sapnap cared where he worked. “It’s nice.”

  
  
Sapnap hummed casually. _“Are you happy with it?”_

  
  
“I suppose.”

  
  
_ “That’s good. Listen, George-  _ don’t  _ fall off the map like that ever again, okay? I was scared shitless.” _

  
  
George laughed lightly, taking a sip from his coffee as he looked out the amber glass window he was seated by. He watched the people pass by- business men wandering home, teenagers laughing and huddle together under the streetlights. It was peaceful. 

“I met this guy once, online,” George started, his eyes darting from face to face. “He was weirdly bright- actually, it’s a funny story on how we met. He needed someone to code for him, but I never responded. He taught himself to code, and then we met again on a Minecraft server. Weird how the world works sometimes, huh?”

  
  
Sapnap said something, words quiet and soft and hesitant. George took this as an incentive to continue. “This guy- he made me feel alive again. We were happy, sitting on voice calls until neither of us could stay awake. A five hour time difference was nothing to us, as long as we had each other.

“Everything was fine, everything was so close to perfect. I met his friend, someone younger than the both of us, and we all hit it off. It felt like it was fate, like it was meant to be. But then I started to feel a little too much- a little too intense.” 

_“And what happened then?”_ His friend asked lightly, already knowing the answer. George smiled sadly to himself, his eyes turning to a couple nestled in the back corner of the cafe, giggling as gentle kisses were pressed against each other’s cheeks.

“And then I told him how I felt. And believe me when I tell you that I tried- I tried so hard to shove it all away, to turn a blind eye to it. But I couldn’t. We tried to fix it; we got scotch tape and years old glue, and we pieced together broken porcelain. After a while though, it fell apart again. Most things do.”

  
  
Sapnap laughed lightly. _“Yeah,_ most things do.  _ How philosophical of you.” _

  
  
“Shush,” George shot back, a teasing note high in his voice. “I’m waxing poetic about something that doesn’t matter anymore.”

  
  
_“You do you, I guess,”_ Sapnap replied, the faint sounds of blankets shuffling around filling George’s ears. He heard Sapnap greet his cat quietly, a light purr erupting from the speaker. 

George smiled at the faint words he could hear, static filled and fuzzy. “Anyway, when that friendship fell apart, I fell apart too. It felt like rose petals were tucked between my ribs as my lungs failed to expand- it hurt, is what I’m saying. I had to give Cat to my sister, did you know that? I could barely take care of myself, how could I take care of a pet?

“I got a shit ton of plants- they kind of took over my flat, and I’m still trying to fend them off. I put myself back together, and I stood up. And now he’s just a stranger with all my secrets; a soulmate who was never meant to be, I suppose.”

  
  
The two of them sat in silence, the ambient noise of the cafe drowning out the sound of his pain drumming its finger tips against the table he sat at. 

George was good at lying- especially good at lying to himself.  _ “I’m fine,”  _ he had gritted out all those months ago, as his bones broke and peonies invaded his body. George was good at lying to himself, even now, as he sat in this cafe, a quiet November evening as he spoke to his friend for the first time in months.

_“Well that’s existential.”_ The words forced a laugh out of George, loud and obnoxious as he tried to stifle it. Sapnap had a talent of making the darkest days brighter, witty comments and sarcasm putting any dry conversation to an end. _“Anyway, mind if I mooch off of you to and ask you for help on this program? It’s a pain in my ass.”_

  
  
George let out a dramatic sigh, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I already have the answer, Sapnap. You ready for this?”

  
  
_ “I swear, if you just say Sta-” _

  
  
“Stack Overflow! Solves all your problems, baby!” George said, pumping his fist lightly despite the younger only being on voice call. Sapnap groaned, accepting defeat. The sound of his keyboard echoed in his ears. “Have you declared your major yet?”

  
  
Sapnap snorted, sarcastically snapping, _“You already know, George. Comp. Sci. all the way, even if it’s going to kill me before I even finish my undergrad. I do have a Business, Economics, and Philosophy minor- did you know that they just wrap all that into one here?”_   


  
“Business and philosophy? Aren’t those polar opposites or something?” George responded. He took another sip of his coffee, finishing the drink. He waved over a waiter and paid for the food and drink, leaving the shop as Sapnap rambled about the specifics of his minor. 

It was nice- domestic, almost. “Hey listen, Sapnap,” George said, pulling his phone away from his ear to check the time. “I need to go, I have to send in my project for my boss to review. I’ll call you back soon, okay? And I’m actually going to call this time, so don’t send me fifteen voice mails.”

  
  
_“Aight, talk to you later, George. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me fly out there,”_ Sapnap bid his farewell as George unlocked the door of his flat, a laugh bubbling in his chest as he said his own goodbye.

He pushed open the door, dust greeting him warmly as he stepped inside. He was never the best at cleaning, especially now. George was greeted with Cat rubbing against his legs, a faint smile tracing his lips. His sister must have dropped the animal off when he was out. He bent down to pick up the pet, running his fingers through the crisp white fur. 

George wandered further into the flat, familiar in all its disappointment. His pothos wrapped itself around his refrigerator and clung on tight, the snake plant in the corner by his bed standing proud in all its glory. The ivy ran along the walls, the swiss cheese plant healthy and flourishing in the corner despite the cold settling over the past month. George was familiar with these plants- they were his only friends, most days. 

He breathed a soft sigh as he dropped Cat onto the sofa, settling on the soft cushions easily. Leaning back, George took in the flat in its entirety. It was dark and dull, splashes of blue and yellow a familiar sight. The television sat unused for the most part, a gaming console he couldn’t be bothered to use sitting beneath it. 

Everything was almost exactly as it was all those months ago. 

George didn’t like the familiarity of it all- it reeked of a relationship that was never meant to be, of late night nostalgia for a happier time of his life. Something he could never return to, following him around like a ghost refusing to move on. 

He tucked away those memories, the proverbial cassette tape shoved under the pile of boxes in the corner of his flat. It sat there, collecting dust as the days passed by, untouched and unseen.

  
  
George didn’t want to throw that away- not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I YELLED FUCK IT AND THE LAST CHAPTER IS POSTED RIGHT NOW SO GO GO GO AND IM NOT SORRY


	8. beyond the time of memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Why are we reading this?”_
> 
> _She looked dumbstruck at the question, caught off guard my something few people bothered to ask. “Why do you ask?”_
> 
> _“It’s the 2010s, ma’am. I don’t see a point in reading something written in the 1590s,” he reasoned, a cheeky year 9 at the time. “And besides, it doesn’t even have a good ending.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i beg of you blease put the concept playlist on shuffle for this chapter you will not be disappointed.

_“Oh, yeah, we should probably talk about that,”_ George heard Sapnap say, a disembodied voice in his headphones. He rattled off the dono, a question about what had happened to the Dream Team, and George heard Bad laugh lightly at the question. _“Bad, shut up, I thought chat would like to know what the question was!”_ _  
  
_

_“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing because I’m remembering how_ that _conversation went,”_ Bad reasoned, voice light despite the topic. 

Dream and Sapnap chuckled along with him, one more forced than the other. _“Do you think we should just talk about it here, or should we get him in the call with us?”_ Sapnap asked hesitantly.

 _  
__  
__“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I’ll- I’ll DM him, hold on.”_

George frowned at the implications of their words, hesitant as he heard a familiar chime. He glanced at Discord, opening his DMs to a message he was _praying_ he wouldn’t see.

**Dream** could you join the call? we want to explain some things and i think it’d be better if everyone was here. its fine if you dont want to though, we can make up an excuse or something.

At least they could still be civil, George supposed. He bit his lip, fingers resting on his keyboard as he tabbed back to the IDE. Contemplating, George thought about it. Things would probably smooth over easier if he was there to help explain, but he hadn’t been on a stream in months, much less spoke to anyone other than Sapnap. 

He sighed, and typed out a reply after a moment of hesitation.

_8._

**dt updates!** _@dttwtupdates_

george is on sapnap’s stream!

**dt updates!** _@dttwtupdates -_

and no im not joking, he’s actually there

_8._

“Hey guys,” George said awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. “It’s… It’s been a bit, hasn’t it?”

_“Hey, George! How have you been?”_ Bad said, lightening the slightly somber mood of the call. 

“I’ve been getting by, nothing special. How about you?” 

They caught up like they were old friends from university who drifted apart, maybe even from college. News was passed around, familiar voices and tonal inflections sitting in George’s headphones.

  
 _“So, what are you up to now, George?”_ Dream asked hesitantly, voice lilting upwards on his name. He felt something break in his chest. _“You planning on streaming again after your… hiatus?”_

Smooth, Dream. Smooth. “Not really? Sorry, chat- I don’t think it’s really something I can maintain. I might be a bit more active on Twitter and show up on others’ streams, but I won’t be doing a lot of my own stuff. I have a lot of work projects right now, so… yeah,” he cut himself off before he could truly start rambling. 

The three others laughed, a the sound filled with memories from a previous era. George smiled, rattling off answers to donations without really thinking. “What do I work as? I’m a game developer for Nintendo,” he responded lightly. 

_“You’re a game dev now?”_ Dream asked in surprise. 

“I mean, yeah. I have the credentials for it.”  
  


 _“That’s cool! That’s really cool, George. I can imagine that it’s a lot of fun,”_ Bad interjected, and George felt himself sight with relief at the elder’s words. He couldn’t exactly handle a full conversation with Dream at the moment.

He choked out an agreement, and Sapnap took that as his cue to spearhead the conversation away from George. And for that he was grateful- Sapnap was great like that. He knew when to push and when to pull, and he picked up on small cues easily. 

Being friends with Sapnap was great like that.

A couple minutes go by, and more people join the call as Dream and Bad round up people to do something on the SMP with. Wilbur joins, then Karl, then Quackity, Tommy, Tubbo, and so many others. George lets himself fade into the background as the others stand tall in the glory, friendly banter passing between them and loud laughter filling his ears.

It was too much. 

Hastily he deafens, tearing off his headphones as he stumbled to his feet, briskly walking away from his desk in an effort to forget. To forget those friendships he valued so much, to forget the days where he was so _happy_ with himself and with others. Days where the plants didn’t cling to the bookshelves, where he could feel something and know that he had people to support him.

George leaned against the cool granite countertops of his kitchen, hands pulling through his hair as his head hung between his shoulders. He turned to look at his phone as it vibrated, a notification lighting up his screen.

**Sapnap** we’ve been calling for you for a minute now, you good? 

**Sapnap** if youre uncomfortable you can leave, we can handle this on our own.

He shook his head absently, wrapping his arms around himself as he forced himself back to his desk. George settled into the chair, pulling his headphones back on and hesitantly undeafening. “Hi, hi, I’m back. Sorry, I- my cat, uh, knocked something over.”

  
No one questioned the excuse.

_“George!”_ Wilbur greeted warmly. _“Holy shit, dude, we haven’t talked in ages.”_

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been dealing with some stuff.” Fuck, did his voice always shake like that?

He exchange pleasantries with everyone, assuring them that he was fine. They all slowed down, seemingly accommodating him in a way that made his eyebrows pinch. 

**George** did you tell them to be quieter?

**Sapnap** no comment

George sighed as Dream started talking, the words refusing to register properly in his head. It was something about Twitter, and personal issues- oh, he was talking about the Dream Team, wasn’t he?

_“Have anything to add on, George?”_ Dream asked suddenly, forcing George back into reality.

He stumbled over his words for a moment, hesitant and unsure. “Uh, sorry, I kind of- spaced out. Sorry, that’s been happening a lot lately.”

  
 _“You’re fine,”_ Sapnap assured, his words honest and clear in his head. _“We were talking about the, uh, Dream Team. Breaking up, that is.”_

“Oh, yeah. Um, sorry, everyone. I- I think I said this earlier, but streaming isn’t something I can really keep up with. It was a lot of fun while it lasted, and thank you for your support, but I don’t think I’m going to be continuing. I have a job now,” George justified, the words falling from his lips before he could really think about what he was saying. “And I- I, uh, yeah. Sorry to talk your ears off,” he ended lamely.

He looked at the chat, unsure if his words had made a difference. Chat was still sad, typing in all caps, expressing their grief at how their favorite content creators were parting ways. A couple people said that George sounded hesitant and sad, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The people in the call said that it was ok, that it was fine. It didn’t feel fine. _“Well, you’re always free to come on our streams and hang out with us!”_ Tubbo said, and George mumbled his agreement into the mic. 

“Hey, listen, I’m gonna go. I need to finish something for work, so, uh- bye, chat. Bye guys,” George said, the excuse falling flat when Tommy said _Isn’t it a Saturday, George? Stop working, you dumbass._

And so he sat in the call with people who were no more than strangers to him, recalling old memories from his glory days, reminiscing for a time long gone. “Remember when Tommy was, like, twelve?” George asked once, causing the boy in question to get up and defend himself.

Warm laughter echoed through the call, familiar teasing bouncing between them. George felt himself smile softly as Ranboo loudly proclaimed that, yes, he was actually older than Tommy, who immediately yelled in denial. 

_“I feel so old now,”_ Sapnap said dramatically. _“George, you must feel ancient. How old are you again? Twenty-four?”_

  
“Twenty-five, I think,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’m not _that_ old. I’m definitely not the oldest in this call.” 

_“You_ think _you’re twenty-five?”_ Karl laughed, and George felt his finger still where they were playing with the soft cloth of his sweatshirt.

He opened his mouth, hesitant. “I- um- I kind of forgot about my birthday, this year,” he offered as an explanation, receiving a soft _‘oh’_ from Karl. “Yeah, it’s been kind of weird lately.”

_“I mean, it’s the end of November, so yeah, you’re twenty-five.”_

“Is it really?” He said absentmindedly, clicking on the time in the bottom right of his desktop. _29 November, 2021_ taunted him as the time ticked by slowly. _Shit, had it really been that long?_ “Oh, yeah. You’re right.”

The words being said sounded muffled, like he was sitting outside the gym during a school dance with a cigarette in hand, smoke drifting from his finger tips as he listened to the muffled bass of the song. His phone would ring, he wouldn’t check it, and he’d bask in the warm spring evening with his coat jacket cast aside. 

But it wasn’t spring- it wasn’t a school dance, there wasn’t music, there wasn’t a cancer stick dangling from his lips. It was the end of November, and George had wasted a year of his life wallowing in his grief. He sighed lightly, rubbing his eyes and dragging a hand down the side of his face.

Fuck, what had he been thinking?

_8._

The stream ended, and a familiar emptiness settled in his soul. George listened as those remaining in the call- himself, Dream, Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity, just like old times- mumbled among themselves, their adrenaline rush dying down as they returned to the earth, their time as temporary gods coming to a somber close. 

_“I feel like the last time we all sat here like this, it was eons ago,”_ Karl commented, words heavy with significance as George cringed, the others murmuring their agreements.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, tucked his knees against his chest. “Sorry.”

  
  
 _“For what? Having your own problems?”_ Quackity jumped in. George smiled to himself- he knew that, despite their appearances and online personas, everyone here was warm and kind and easygoing. 

Collective agreement flashed through their words and voices, each phrase sincere in its tone. He smiled and thanked them, that familiar cavity clawing open his chest. George listened silently as they talked about their favorite moments, faint memories from years ago spanning from before they started streaming to a week ago.

It was nice, George told himself. Hollow, but nice.

_8._

_“Do you remember the shock collar stream?”_ Dream asked randomly, the two of them sitting in the voice call well past the stream’s end. _“And how scared I was?”_

George snorted lightly. “Oh, you were terrified.” That tea-kettle laugh he loved so much echoed in his headset as Dream rambled for a minute about it. He propped his arm on his desk, letting his chin sit in the palm of his hand as he listened to the man talk about things George wasn’t registering. 

“Remember when that one fic blew up? Shit, what was it called- uh, Heat Waves?”

  
 _“Yeah, that was wild. I actually read it recently, finally,”_ Dream responded. 

“Really?”

  
He hummed in confirmation, silent for a moment before continuing. _“The writing was really good. I guess that’s one point for the TL.”_ George chuckled lightly, navigating to the album the song, _Heat Waves,_ came off of. _“Song’s a banger, too.”_

“I mean, yeah. It’s Glass Animals, what were you expecting?” George shot back, their childish banter reminisciant of an easier time for the both of them. 

Memories of late night conversations were dredged up as they shoved the dusty cassette into the cassette player, the fuzzy audio clipping out every few moments. They had peeled the stickers off the walls all those months ago, never expecting to go back and look at them. But here they were, sitting together as they stared at the same wall, the residue left behind leaving it a mess.

Funny how this all turned out, wasn’t it? They got to the problem too late, when they were too far gone to fix it and make it all work out fine. 

Even the best relationships fall apart in the end.

_8._

_George sighed, tapping his pencil against his desk as the teacher stood at the front of the room, lecturing about the significance of Shakespeare’s work. Something about Romeo & Juliet, he could care less for the title of the work. He could care less for its substance or literary impact. And so, in a moment of sheer boredom and a slight curiosity burning his finger tips, he raised his hand. _

_“Yes, Mr. Davidson?” The teacher called, and he pulled his arm down. “What is your question?”_ _  
_

_  
__“Why are we reading this?”_

_She looked dumbstruck at the question, caught off guard my something few people bothered to ask. “Why do you ask?”_

_“It’s the 2010s, ma’am. I don’t see a point in reading something written in the 1590s,” he reasoned, a cheeky year 9 at the time. “And besides, it doesn’t even have a good ending.”_

_The teacher tilted her head, contemplating his words for a moment or two. “Romeo & Juliet is a piece of classic literature, and it inspired many modern pieces. It’s also good to measure one’s reading comprehension with a work like Romeo & Juliet.” _ _  
_

_  
__“Yes, but the ending isn’t worth anything. I mean, they both die, so why bother writing or even reading it?”_

_“Mr. Davidson,” she sighed, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “Sometimes, the best love stories don’t have happy endings. Sometimes one of them die, sometimes they fall in love with the right person at the wrong time. Sometimes they both die, sometimes they both live. At the end, though, it’s the sincerity that counts.”_

_8._

The snow hit its hands against the glass of his window, begging to be let in, to be offered a refuge from the pain of the world. George watched as it mercilessly danced with the wind, twirling as snowflakes got stuck to the ground. 

He sat here, isolated in the cold of December, wrapped up in a blanket with his cat nestled at his feet, hoodie high on his shoulders in search of warmth. George stared at the clock sitting neatly beside the television, taunting him with as the numbers switch from _23:42_ to _23:43._

A familiar book lay heavy in his hands, the cover worn from years of age. A book he had despised as a 14 year old, something that forced him into a constant state of misery from the assigned readings from it. George thumbed the page he was stuck on, Romeo’s words sitting oddly in his head.

It was something about the phrasing of the line, a comma, perhaps- George bit his lip and tilted his head as the minutes ticked by.

_23:53_ the clock taunted.

_“Shut up,”_ he said.

Maybe it was something his teacher had said to him all those years ago. What was it she said? Something along the lines of _“Sometimes the happiest ending doesn’t suit the sincerity of their words.”_ He couldn’t remember, that plant dead and gone. 

George chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned the page, carrying on with the reading. He listened as Friar Lawrence waxed poetic about Romeo and Juliet’s love, the lengths they went to in order to be together. Star-crossed from the beginning, they had tried and failed.

It was a comforting thought to him.

He felt his phone vibrate on his chest, and he glanced down in curiosity. George picked up the device delicately, closing the book gently so as to preserve the aged paper. 

**Dream** happy new year

George frowned and exited the app, quickly tapping on the calendar in search of the date. The oxygen was stolen from his lungs, his reason for breathing vanishing as his mind rattled off the numbers.

1 January, 2022.

_8._

**George** i luv u, srry.

_8._

**PRINCE ESCALUS**

A glooming peace this morning with it brings,

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;

Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished:

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha emotional distress go brrrr


	9. i can(t) handle it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interlude.

**_1\. the_ ** **_wind blows in my dry eyes_ **

Sapnap clawed at his tired eyes, dry from staring at his computer screen for hours on end. The music was blaring in his headset, foreign synth beats circling his head lazily. He closed the IDE out of frustration with himself, the concept refusing to stick in his head. The vaporwave song switched to jazz-hop, jazz-hop to acoustic, acoustic to some k-pop song, the guitar tempered by breathy ad libs in the introduction-

His phone lit up in the corner of his eye with a Discord notification, a familiar name popping up on the home screen.

**Dream** are you gonna get on?

Confusion coursed through his veins as Sapnap turned to the clock on his wall, the bright white numbers taunting him. _2:45 a.m._ it read, the two dots blinking in and out of existence. He hastily clicked off Google Classroom, closing the absurd number of tabs Chrome had collected over the past hours.

The cursor hesitated above Discord for a split second before he opened the application, the logo spinning haphazardly as it booted up. He immediately joined the call, warm greetings and fake enthusiasm coloring his voice. 

They teased him lightly about being late, he made up an excuse about oversleeping. He laughed, he smiled, he played the role he was supposed to. He opened Minecraft, joined the server, and pretended like everything was okay. 

It was the start of a new semester- new classes, new professors, new schedule, new workload. Sapnap was adjusting, yes, but adjusting took _time._ So as he watched his friends’ sprites punch one another, he swallowed his issues and put on that familiar mask.

Everything was okay.

_1._

As the stream ended, Sapnap pulled the mask away to show just a sliver of himself, alone with two disembodied voices he knew all too well. 

The adredaline faded from their systems, bringing them down from their highs and pulling them back to where they were sitting in their chairs, alone in their rooms with the blue light of their monitors. Soft voices and small laughs, jokes falling flat as the tiredness clouded their minds. 

_“Did you get enough sleep, Sapnap?”_ He heard Dream ask, a playful note in his voice. 

“Ah,” he responded, searching for an answer- an excuse that they would believe. “Y-eah, I did.” If they heard him hesitate, if they heard the underlying note of guilt, neither of them said anything about it. “Listen, uh, I need to go. I have class in a couple minutes, and I really need to go to this one.” 

George hummed softly into his mic. _“Okay, see you later, Snapchat.”_ Dream bid his gentle farewell, he responded accordingly, and left the call, silence overwhelming him the moment he left.

Instead of thinking of his class, the lecture that was happening in around fifteen minutes, Sapnap felt his mind wander back to the call, the subtle notes in his friend’s voices through the hours they spent together. George had been off, ever so slightly- perhaps about something that had happened before he had joined? Worry built in his chest and wrapped its cold hands around his neck.

What if something had happened? Was it his fault? What could he do to fix it? Maybe he should call George soon, just to see if something was wrong. Maybe he should-

Sapnap’s alarm went off. A reminder to calm down, to force himself back into his body, to go through the motions of his day. Open his email, navigate to the Google Classroom, click on the Zoom link, try and inevitably fail to take notes. 

An hour passed and Sapnap was left alone to figure out what the hell had just happened. He looked down at his chicken scratch, handwriting a mess to the point where he could barely read it. Eclipse was open for some reason, a Google Doc open and Spotify running in the background. 

He heard his name get called, a question asked, and he froze. The professor repeated his words, and Sapnap simply sat there, fear gripping his rib cage and rattling his lungs. He _hated_ cold calls, especially in large lectures like this. The worry of ‘what if I mess up’ or ‘what if I get the answer wrong’ pinning him down, and then Sapnap is left to flail about as his professor sighs and moves on without another word.

The next thing he knew, the meeting was over. Sapnap looked around, unsure of that the fuck just happened. He glanced at the clock, a menacing _11:37 a.m._ glaring at him from across the room. Sapnap pulled of his headset and ran a hand through his hair, biting his lips and pinching his eyebrows. Class had started at 9:25- but he barely remembered a thing.

With a disappointed sigh, Sapnap let his hands fall forwards into his hands. What the hell was wrong with him?

_1._

Sapnap laughed lightly as he sat in a call with Dream, the two of them chatting about nothing and everything as the evening passed by slowly. They talked about video ideas, screenwriting for the SMP, random tid-bits of information being shared in an effort to maintain their distant connection.

Long distance friendships were fickle, and weren’t always easy to maintain. But they struck a simple balance, lighthearted stories and darker, sadder moments drawing the two together.

He was happy with what they had.

_“Are you okay?”_ Dream asked suddenly during a break in their conversation, the two of them wallowing in comfortable silence. _“You’ve been kind of distant today.”_ _  
  
_

Sapnap laughed lightly, brushing his concern off easily. “Yeah, I’m fine. The new semester started not too long ago, so I’m just trying to get used to the new schedule and stuff.” Dream accepted the answer easily, because that was all it was.

_“Imagine going to college,”_ he said, tone teasing and airy. Sapnap smiled and quipped something back- he didn’t remember what he said. His friend’s words passed through his headset without him really processing what was being said, hours being lost as the day went on. 

“I gotta go do some homework now, so I’m gonna go,” Sapnap said offhandedly when he caught the time. It had been hours- _hours_ since his last lecture, and he had done maybe two assignments. He gave his farewells, the words quiet as he left the call. 

  
Navigating to Spotify, he threw on a random playlist and started working.

_1._

Sapnap clawed at his tired eyes, dry from staring at his computer screen for hours on end. The music was blaring in his headset, foreign synth beats circling his head lazily. He closed the IDE out of frustration with himself, the concept refusing to stick in his head. The vaporwave song switched to jazz-hop, jazz-hop to acoustic, acoustic to some k-pop song, the guitar tempered by breathy ad libs in the introduction-

His phone lit up in the corner of his eye with a Discord notification, a familiar name popping up on the home screen.

**Dream** are you gonna get on?

Confusion coursed through his veins as Sapnap turned to the clock on his wall, the bright white numbers taunting him. _2:45 a.m._ it read, the two dots blinking in and out of existence. He hastily clicked off Google Classroom, closing the absurd number of tabs Chrome had collected over the past hours.

The cursor hesitated above Discord for a split second before he opened the application, the logo spinning haphazardly as it booted up. He immediately joined the call, warm greetings and fake enthusiasm coloring his voice. 

They teased him lightly about being late, he made up an excuse about oversleeping. He laughed, he smiled, he played the role he was supposed to. He opened Minecraft, joined the server, and pretended like everything was okay. 

It was the start of a new semester- new classes, new professors, new schedule, new workload. Sapnap was adjusting, yes, but adjusting took _time._ So as he watched his friends’ sprites punch one another, he swallowed his issues and put on that familiar mask.

Everything was okay.

  
  


**_2\. you know better that the excuses for so many reasons are useless_ **

  
  


Sapnap laughed as he clicked on the stream notification, his Twitch opening to Tommy’s stream. He watched as the younger ran around the SMP, voice bright with youth and adrenaline. He felt his smile fall a bit as he continued watching, tired from doing nothing on his day off. He hummed as the corners of his lips turned upwards, listening as George joined.

_“European supremacy,”_ was the first thing to come out of his friend’s mouth, the word flat and deadpan through the phone’s speaker. Sapnap, his interest once again piqued, continued watching, snickering at the jokes passing between familiar voices.

He felt himself fall into the monotony of it all, his phone falling on its side, protected from the world as it laid in the folds of his comforter. Sapnap watched, lying on his back as the ceiling fan revolved lazily, unable to truly look at the blades moving slowly against the backdrop of his ceiling. Airy vocals filled his senses as he was drawn into the music emitting from his speaker, tucked into the bottom of his bookshelf.

His bones felt heavy. His mind felt numb. He felt like his bones were burning and his traces were being swept away by the uncaring janitor.

Sapnap wasn’t sure what time it was, or how long had passed, but he heard the stream still going distantly. Pulling himself upwards out of his stupor, Sapnap dragged himself over to his PC, opening Discord and Minecraft with slow mouse movements. He joined the server, hopping into the voice call all his friends were gathered in, and said something he didn’t remember.

Wilbur wandered up to him with a knockback stick, sprite staring into his soul menacingly. _“No yeehaw bitches allowed,”_ the elder said, promptly slapping him with the stick. Sapnap yelled on instinct, bolting away as Wilbur hunted him down.

_“It’s not like he gets any bitches, so why should it matter?”_ George’s voice echoed in his headset, and once again, Sapnap clapped back with something he didn’t register.

Fuck, that was happening a lot, wasn’t it?

His mind was blurry and filled with fog, leaving him lost as to why the call went weirdly quiet after he punched George’s sprite. Did Tommy say something strange again? He wasn’t sure. Fundy’s _“do you have something to say to that, George,”_ refusing to settle in his mind, but the silence that followed certainly did.

And once again, that unsettling silence buried itself in his rib cage, making home in his heart, tucked away for later. _You need to talk to him sometime,_ Sapnap heard a small voice chime in his head, the words faint as he laughed loudly, disconnecting from the server and call respectively. 

He needed to talk to George.

_2._

January faded away, and Sapnap chased after the month with open hands, begging for it to stay as the semester continued. He was drowning in his academics, assignment after assignment being piled onto his ever-growing to-do list, concepts he could barely understand flying through his ears at terminal velocity.

Sapnap streamed. He did his work, speedran for his fans, pretending that everything was okay despite the fact that he could barely remember what he had done 5 minutes before, despite the fact that he barely had time to eat full meals with his workload.

Everything was fine, he told himself as he typed up a paper for his philosophy class. Everything was okay. Sapnap glanced at the paper tacked on the wall next to his monitor, notes scrawled across the page, arrows and brackets connecting thoughts to the lines of nonsense. Who the hell grouped business and philosophy together for a _minor?_

He glanced at the clock absentmindedly, and felt his eyebrows raised minutely at the numbers. _11:23?_ Since when? Sapnap checked the date- what the fuck? _February 12th?_ Hadn’t he started working on the 8th? And he had been meaning to call George this week- where had the days gone? 

Faint memories of sitting at his desk for hours on end, chugging coffee like his life depended on it in order to finish his project before the deadline. Zoom calls, crashing on his desk, mugs stacked on his bedside table, energy drink cans tossed on the floor, chicken scratch on his papers as words appeared at random on his Google Docs-

Sapnap shook his head, hitting his forehead as he steadied himself. The paper was due in, what, seven hours? He had the time to worry about George- that was what friends do, wasn’t it? So he pulled off his headset, the lo-fi hip hop fading away as he navigated his contact book on his phone. 

He found his friend’s contact, pressed the call button, and brought the device up to his ear.

That familiar anxiousness blossomed along Sapnap’s ribs, snaking around his lungs and constricting them, refusing to let him breathe properly. What if he was just going to fuck this up, what if we was over-stepping? He still had his paper due at 5:00 p.m.- What if George got angry with him, what if he said something wrong-

_“Hey, what’s up?”_ Accented words startled Sapnap, steadying his breathing ever so slightly. _“You never call me around this time. Is everything okay?”_

Sapnap sighed, and he felt the words rush out, all concern about what he could possibly say wrong being thrown out the window. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that question.” 

_“But you’re the one who called me.”_

His eyebrows knitted together uncomfortably. “You’ve been kind of weird lately, George.” Concern colored his voice nicely- “I know something’s up.”

_“Everything’s fine, dude. I’m honestly not sure why you’re worried.”_ And Sapnap felt something in him snap at the words- concern, fear, and frustration- not at George, but rather at himself. He should have called earlier, maybe sent a text or two to just check in.

He’s not sure what he said after that, something about Wilbur’s stream- wasn’t it Tommy who was streaming? Maybe they both were- but Sapnap knew that he sounded angry. Fuck, that wasn’t what he wanted to do, he wanted to be gentler than this.

But he felt himself break a bit when George said, words sounding like a flower so delicate that holding it would cause the petals to fall off: _“I don’t know, Nick.”_

_2._

Sapnap was good at being brave. Sapnap was righteous, bright and confident in himself and his words. 

Nick, contrary to what most people thought, wasn’t good at being brave. Nick listened to George’s emotions spill over the lip of the sink, the colors of the sunset splashing over the water’s ripples. Nick wasn’t good at being brave, he was good at pretending- Sapnap was the one who was good at being brave.

So when George said _“I don’t know, Nick”,_ he didn’t know what to do.

_2._

He knows that he went too far- their conversation barely lasted an hour, and it was because Nick had let his emotions go unchecked. 

George let his emotions go unchecked as well, but that wasn’t the issue here. It was that _Nick_ was the one to snap, not his counterpart, not George’s best friend Sapnap, but _Nick._

So he collapsed onto his bed, staring at his ceiling fan as it revolved at a turtle’s pace, taunting him, reminding him of the words he had just said. The wall watched him, and while they couldn’t shout his secrets to those passing by, they could watch him fall apart and fail to piece himself back together.

Sapnap wasn’t sure how long he laid there. The sun set, the sun rose, filtered through the blinds on the few windows he had. He had unpaused the playlist at one time, songs sounding choppy and disonant to him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to sit in silence.

_“I don’t know, Nick.”_

_2._

The philosophy paper was never turned in.

  
  


**_3\. the tears that i tried to hard to endure flow_ **

Sapnap did his schoolwork. He streamed, he answered questions- he deflected every time someone asked about where George was, brushing it off or immediately getting sidetracked. Guilt bubbled in his throat with each donation, with each time chat yelled for George.

Sapnap streamed. Sapnap recorded videos with Dream. He edited, he pretending like he didn’t feel termites eating him from the inside out. He laughed, he played on the SMP, he joined in on Karl’s _Tales of the SMP_ streams, and he didn’t sleep. There was too much to do, and not enough hours in the day.

He didn’t have the time to be human anymore.

Dream relayed his conversation with George to him, and Sapnap made small comments every now and then as he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, taking on Dream’s grievances. The line _“I need you like oxygen; you’re the one who keeps me breathing”_ haunted him, the knowledge that he more or less destroyed one of the strongest friendships he’s ever seen. 

So yes, Sapnap didn’t have time to be human. He played as Atlas, holding up the sky on his shoulder as people laid before him, secrets falling from their lips as he struggled to stand upright.

He played middle man for the two of them, watching mournfully as his two best friends danced elegantly around one another. Sapnap relayed news, small comments and greetings passing between the two through his finger tips and lips. His own emotions were cast aside, and frankly, Sapnap couldn’t care less about his feelings. He just wanted everything to be okay.

Sapnap listened intently during the few conversations he had with George, listening silently to the monotone words, offering empathy as best he could. Sapnap commented every now and then as Dream rambled, patient when the man lost track of his words and stumbled over himself.

He read the tweets, he watched the two of them have stilted conversations. He listened to others talk about what was happening, he supported those who needed it.

Sapnap was a sunflower in a rainstorm, searching for the sun when he knew that it wouldn’t be coming back.

E̶͍̽v̵̧͊e̶̺͌r̵̖̈y̴̨͗t̵̙̋h̴͔̋ị̷̉n̴̗͝g̵̝̐ ̵̻͑w̶̢̅ā̶͇s̷̿͜ ̴̲̓o̸̜͐k̸̞͐a̵̟̕y̸̝̓.̴̫

_3._

Everything was not okay, he soon came to realize. School picked up, and Sapnap fumbled. Assignments were turned in late or forgotten about, quizzes were bombed, projects handed in uncompleted. He missed lectures, buckling under the weight of it all. He would pull all nighters for days on end, writing papers for his minor while bullshiting his programming projects. Stack Overflow was his best friend, coffee his lifeline. 

_“Are you sure you’re fine?”_ Dream asked once, the two of them sitting in silence after recording a video, the only sound in the call being the clicking of Sapnap’s keyboard. He wrote papers for hours on end, throwing in semi-colons just to remember that this wasn’t his IDE as he switched tabs. 

Sapnap threw out an excuse without thinking about it, cradling his mug in his hands as he watched the program he finished run, error messages popping up on his screen. Frustration boiled over the rim of the pot, and Sapnap deleted the whole project as he rubbed his eyes. 

Dream said something again, concern coloring his tone ever so slightly, but Sapnap didn’t notice. He tabbed over to Final Cut Pro, running through the clips and cutting things out every now and then. His friend kept saying things, and Sapnap would hum every now and then, but never really respond.

He had to work- that’s all he had time for now. Work to pass the time, work to distract himself from his worry, work to get content out, work to pass his classes.

Work was all he had.

_3._

Inevitably, Sapnap crashed. And funnily enough, it was during a stream. His headset was askew on his head, the muffled voices of his friends asking him where he was. _“Sapnap? Did you crash?”_ He heard someone say, but he couldn’t be bothered to answer.

_“I don’t think he’s been getting a lot of sleep lately.”_ The muffled words were foreign, gentle worry threading through the words. 

The time passed as his monitor cast soft colors onto his sleeping form, hunched over his keyboard with his head tucked against one of his arms. His friend’s sprites crouched in front of his own, ask gentle questions he never heard.

And eventually, they let him sleep. 

_3._

Sapnap woke up slowly, the soft blanket of unconsciousness leaving him behind. He groaned lightly, not wanting to wake up just yet. The soft fabric of his hoodie seemed to grate against his skin as he moved, pushing himself off his desk gently as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. 

He looked at the screen before him, his Minecraft pulled up. Sapnap clumsily pressed a down on his keyboard, pulling up the player list for the server. He frowned lightly, unsure of how much time had passed. No one was on the server, and he left shortly after checking. Sapnap looked over at his second monitor, glancing at the Discord application mindlessly.

Air was knocked out of his lungs momentarily at the sight, his icon alone under the VC 2 tag. Something in his chest wilted ever so slightly, the silence deafening as he sat alone at his desk. Sapnap leaned back in his chair, playing with the cuff on the sleeve of his hoodie.

What had happened?

  
  
Sapnap turned to look at that damn clock mounted on his wall, the LED light emitting from it burning his eyes mercilessly. He bit his lip, eyebrows knitting together slightly as he looked at the time. 3:42? _P.m.?_ When had he crashed? How long had he been sleeping? 

  
He didn’t have _time_ to sleep.

_3._

Sapnap sat at the kitchen counter, a glass of water tucked between his fingers, for the most part untouched as he stared at the sink. The mugs from the past weeks sat on the granite countertop, taunting him. _“You’re wasting time,”_ they said. _“What the hell are you doing? Get back to work.”_

He sighed, and his head falling to hang low between his shoulders. Sapnap was so _tired,_ his bones heavy and mind numb from passive work for hours on end. So he picked up his phone and plugged numbers in, pressing the call button and bringing the device up to his ear.

Sapnap knew that George wasn’t going to pick up. He knew that his friend wasn’t going to pick up, but at the very least he could try to get in contact with him again. June felt dead without him- his kind words and gentle assistance missing from his days doing homework, frustration at the lines of code and meaningless articles. 

He was so tired. 

“Hey, George,” Sapnap started, voice rough from a lack of use. “I- how have you been? It’s been a little bit since we’ve talked. Finals are in full swing, and I don’t think I’ve done too well. Um, I just- I miss you, George.”

His voice broke, and everything fell apart. Tears began to roll down his cheeks, the weight of it all, pressing down on his frail body and breaking it apart. “It’s been weeks, and I just- I don’t- I don’t know how long I can keep this up for, dude.” It all spilled out of him, words falling from his lips without him truly thinking about what he was saying. 

Nick was truly, _truly_ tired.

_3._

He deleted that voice mail, and tried again.

**_4\. cause i can(t) handle it_ **

Sapnap met Dream when he was he was starting middle school. They met on a Minecraft server, and they talked relatively regularly. They moved to Skype, then they moved to Discord, and then they exchanged numbers. It was all very natural, very casual- they became good friend fast.

They were there for one another when they needed help, they were there for one another when something amazing happened. They saw each other through day and night, through sun and through rain, no matter what happened to them. 

And they sat together on the phone for hours, silence comforting and words gentle. During late August nights, Sapnap sat with his best friend talking for ages under the low light, slowly piecing himself back together. He laughed, he smiled, he felt. It was a wonderful thing.

_“You seem brighter,”_ Dream said one night, voice quiet as he broke their silence. _“Did something good happen?”_

_  
  
_

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” Sapnap responded easily.

_“And you didn’t tell me?”_ His friend teased, lighthearted in his words. Sapnap hummed softly, failing to quip back. _“Wait,”_ Dream asked after a moment of Sapnap’s silence. _“Seriously, what happened?”_

He bit his lip as he leaned back in his chair, tugging on the collar of his t-shirt. “I put myself back together.”

  
  
_“...What?”_

“I wasn’t doing too hot at the beginning of the year with school. J-term was intense, and then the new semester started, and I was kind of getting swamped with work, you know?”

  
  
_“So it was just school?”_ _  
  
_

Sapnap hesitated for a moment. “Yeah. Just school. I’m fine now, though- it was just some burn out.” 

Dream hummed lightly, and he let the topic drop.

_4._

“I swear to Twitch Prime, George,” Sapnap said into the receiver at two in the morning, worry bubbling over the brim. “If you’re fucking dead and never told any of us, I’m going to fly to England and kick your flat ass.”

He had been sending the older voice mails on a monthly basis, familiar anxiousness building up every now and again. But every time he called, he never got an answer. Sapnap was nervous that something had happened, at this point.

Sapnap sighed, and continued without a hitch. “It’s September, George- that’s- that’s way too long. Just-” Fuck, he was stumbling again. His voice broke ever so slightly, and he resolved to just wrap it up. “-call me, George. Please, I’m- I can’t-”  
  


The words weren’t registering anymore, he felt like he was drowning and no one cared. His chest constricted, refusing to let him breathe. His vocal chords were failing him, and he bit his lip as his eyebrows pinched together.

“...Please, just call me when you can.” His arm fell, and his phone fell into his lap. Sapnap tossed the device onto his desk and let his head fall into his hands, rubbing his eyes.

  
  
He thought he could handle it. 

_4._

**Sapnap** _@sapnap_

I’m going to be taking the month off of streaming. Finals week is the worst thing on the planet, so I’m trying my best to study. I should be back in December!

**Sapnap** _@sapnap -_

Thank you all for being so understanding <3 

**sharkie** _@sharksanddasies -_

don’t worry abt it! i feel your pain, so taking a month off to pass finals is completely understandable :>

**Dream** _@Dream -_

do you need help lol

**Sapnap** _@sapnap --_

imagine not going to college

**Quackity** _@Quackity -_

oh cool we can die together

**TommyInnit** _@tommyinnit --_

i forgot that youre a university student

**Sapnap** _@sapnap ---_

we’re just too smart for you

_4._

Finals week was going to kill him. Sapnap groaned as he slammed his head against the textbook, trying to force his one remaining brain cell to do it’s job. He had his economics final in two hours, and he couldn’t bring himself to study any longer. Much like last year, he was living off of coffee and granola bars every couple of hours. 

Concerned DMs sat unread, text messages from his friends going unanswered for days. He didn’t have the time to respond- all he could do was study, chug coffee, write the exam, and then take a solid five hour nap before repeating the cycle. So when Sapnap woke to his phone ringing, something he, admittedly, didn’t hear often, he was startled.

“Hello?” He greeted sleepily, shielding his gaze from the soft sunlight filtering through his window. Sapnap tried to remember if he had a meeting planned with anyone, or if he had an appointment-

_“Hey, long time no see. Or talk, I suppose,”_ a familiar voice said, followed by a light chuckle. Sapnap felt his grip on his phone tighten, all thoughts of sleep thrown out the window at the words. _“How have you been?”_

There was no way. After all these months, there was _no fucking way._ A tentative ‘hello’ sounded from the speaker, the word so familiar in tone and pronunciation it terrible. 

Sapnap didn’t believe it, but he had to make sure.

“George?”

_4._

Static buzzed in his ears as he processed what had just happened. Their conversation hadn’t lasted long, maybe twenty or thirty minutes. George was a game dev for _Nintendo,_ he wasn’t planning on streaming again, and he sounded _sad._

Sapnap didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Ever since he was younger, Sapnap liked to feel useful. He liked to help around the house, he liked to hand out papers during school, he liked being there for his friends. So when he couldn’t find a way to actively help, he would listen. He would listen and take care of their secrets, offering advice whenever he could.

Sapnap liked to feel useful.

So when he listened to George wax poetic about a relationship that inevitably failed, Sapnap couldn’t really say anything. He couldn’t give any advice, couldn’t hold onto his words for him. 

  
Sapnap didn’t feel useful.

_4._

_“Oh that reminds me, how were finals?”_ Technoblade asked, causing both Sapnap and Quackity to laugh weirdly. Tommy and Tubbo both said something about ‘imagine taking finals’, causing Quackity to punch his sprite as the youngest went on about how his gap year was going great.

Eventually, Quackity started talking about how many emails he had to send to his professors about point values and what not. _“What about you, Sapnap? How bad did you do?”_ Quackity asked, lighthearted in tone.

“Uh,” he started, scratching his cheek with his pointer finger. “I mean, I did fairly decently. I got a process that worked pretty well by the end of it.”  
  


_“And what was that?”_

“Y’know, study. Chug coffee. Take the exam, eat a granola bar. Crash for two hours, get back up, make more coffee, and start studying again.” The call was dead silent for a few seconds in lieu of his words, the other three processing Sapnap’s words as their sprites stilled on the screen. “...Are you guys good?”

_“I don’t think that’s a very- uh,_ healthy _way to go about finals week, dude,”_ a familiar monotone voice said. Sapnap felt his eyebrows pinch every so slightly, but he only hummed in response.

In Tommy’s silence, Tubbo said something along the same lines as Technoblade did. _“I mean, worm, but that’s kind of- did you just live off of granola bars and coffee?”_ Quackity said, laughing lightly as he said it.

Sapnap didn’t bother answering that one.

_4._

He rattled off a donation, saying the words before he really read them. “We should probably talk about that,” he said lightly, Bad laughing in the background. “Bad, shut up! I thought chat would like to know what the question was!” 

Bad responded, and Dream said something about getting George in the call. Sapnap felt his fingers lock where they were, refusing to press down on the keys needed to fend off the spider that was killing him. 

As George joined the call, Sapnap’s screen went red. 

  
  


**_5\. your traces remain here and there_ **

His chest felt hollow has more people joined the call, exchanging greetings as though they were a graduating high school class at a five year reunion. George vanished for a moment, and fear stabbed him in the back as he DM’ed him frantically. Sapnap made a quick group chat, asking everyone to tone it down a bit. And to his, pride, they listened.

Sapnap was good at faking things, especially happiness. 

The weight of their words nestled on his shoulders-

_“You’re what keeps me breathing; I need you like oxygen,”_

\- He wasn’t sure he could do this.

They reminisced about a better time, when everything was bright and easy. When Sapnap wasn’t swamped with work, when Dream hadn’t even hit 10 million subscribers. When they were small and young and naive, when the summer heat nipped at their skin.

It was comforting. Domestic, almost. 

_5._

Sapnap fell back to earth, his time as a temporary god coming to an end as he sat silently in the voice call. It was just Quackity, Karl, George, Dream, and himself now, the adrenaline fading from their systems as they came down from their highs. 

He supported George as he apologizes, he laughs as they remember something that happened on stream.

Sapnap felt happy.

_5._

As he tabbed back into Discord, Sapnap watched as George left the call, leaving Dream alone in the voice channel. He felt the air get knocked out of his lungs, oxygen refusing to enter his body for the briefest of moments.

_Ah,_ he finally realized, his eyes burning. _It’s finally over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself i was gonna make this a series but fuck it i dont have time to tag these things individually  
> i also did this on my phone so if spacing is weird i’ll fix it later
> 
> this is kind of an interlude between george and dream’s perspective, and i also just wanted to write from sapnaps point of view lol  
> interludes are fun to write, especially when i have a whole bop to base it on! this one is inspired by HANDLE IT (TWICE), as well as some of my own experiences. hope you enjoyed :]
> 
> [so i made a sapnap playlist for this chapter](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6T9N83B2kIJiyn2SX8rvAT?si=T79nDBjdTfelXthEKtbHMQ)


	10. luv u/hate u

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he stood up, paper in hand as he crumpled it up and tossed it in the recycling. 
> 
> He was determined to forget about this, because everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, but,,,,, yknow i wrote this in like an hour while dream was streaming so leave me alone

The rain hit the roof of the car gently, the sky drumming its fingers against the metal casually. Dream let his head recline against the headrest of the seat, his leg propped up on the dashboard as he sat alone on the side of the highway. The music from the radio was like a lullaby, soothing in the static that filled his head.

_ “It feels like there's a hole in my chest and like my lungs aren’t big enough, like I don’t have enough oxygen. But then you come along, and I can breathe again.” _

  
He rubbed his eyes, biting his lip as his eyebrows pinched together. Dream had been prepared for a lot of things when he went into that call- anything from the idea that George just needed some time to himself, to the possibility that something had actually happened to him and he needed help. Dream had been prepared for a lot of things.

But he hadn’t been prepared for the breath to be stolen from his lungs, the dusty air in his room suffocating him as he listened to George talk, a toxic confession filled with static. It felt like George had knocked over a wine glass, the deep red liquid staining the pale wooden table as he spoke.

Dream didn’t know what to do.

The slight chill in the air bit his bones, gnawing on his flesh and burying a knife in his back. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here- every after the phone call seemed to be a blur. A playlist was made, the car was started, and he found himself driving along familiar concrete roads.

George was a constant in his life, someone he always came back to when he needed help. George and Sapnap- they were what kept him grounded most days. Teasing banter revolving his head as time passed, late summer nights spent laughing, holidays spent on call together as the world turned slowly.

What had just happened was not something that came with that constant. A confession, feelings so out of the ordinary- Dream felt himself floating in his own head, free from the shackles that bound him to the earth. Something he was so used to had just been set aflame, the rose petals falling to the ground as fire danced on their edges.

Familiar songs blared from the speakers of the car, his foot tapping the dashboard to the rhythm mindlessly. The rain was steading getting louder, the spray of water hitting his front window, thrown at him by passing cars. 

Dream didn’t know what he was waiting for- he didn’t even know if he was waiting, at this point. He dialed a number, unconscious of his actions until there was a ringing in his ears.  _ “Hey, what’s up?”  _ A voice he had known for years said, words tired and sleepless.

“Hey, Sapnap.” His voice was raw, cracking at the edges. “Did you-” Dream sighed, running a hand through his hair. Jaw trembling, he looked out the window as the cars passed by. “Did you know?”   
  


The line was silent for a moment. Dream inspected his hand, encaptivated by the way his fingers shook delicately. It was an unfamiliar motion for him- Dream was someone who was almost always sure of his motions, confident in his abilities, unshakable as a god.

_ “Yeah. I knew,”  _ Sapnap said, words static-filled as they rattled Dream’s ribcage. He became so aware of small, insignificant things in that moment- the soft sounds of the rising drum in the background of the song that was playing, the way his soft, supple hoodie seemed to grate against his skin. The way his chest rose and fell in time with the rain, the way his hair brushed against his forehead.

Dream hung up, too tired to bother with a response.

_ 10. _

He woke up to the scent of petrichor, comforting as it permeated the air around him, ever-so faint as Dream uncurled himself from where he had curled up in his seat. His phone sat dead on the dash, the faint sound of the radio emanating from the speakers. 

Confusion settled in his system for the briefest of moments before it all crashed into him, remnants of the previous night fresh in his memory. He ran a hand through his hair, the motion unsure and hesitant. His fingers found their way to George’s contact, hovering patiently above the ‘call’ button. He almost pressed it before he remembered-

Right. Two months. Until April, they wouldn’t talk, or would at least limit their interactions to the bare minimum. 

Dream started the car, plugging in his phone as the radio chatter buzzed in the background. He pulled onto the highway, driving along the interstate that was eerily empty. He checked the time- 9:23, the clock read. He frowned, but didn’t think much of it.

So he drove down the empty highway, feeling hollow as he recalled George’s words. “ _ But I always come back to you- thoughts of you circling my head. They run around me all day, all night, and it feels like the burn me when I reach out in interest.”  _

His best friend had been strangely poetic while talking, as if the words were a waterfall coming out of his mouth, a steady stream he had no control over. It almost sounded like song lyrics, the rhythm bouncing around his head as he listened. 

_ “I’m saying that I need you like oxygen; you’re the one who keeps me breathing.”  _

Oh, that would be a  _ banger  _ song, Dream thought to himself, humming a slightly off-pitch tune as he tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel. Maybe it would be a bit too personal, a bit too close to home, but the words were poetic, something he wouldn’t be able to write even if he tried. 

“Even if you peel back the sticker,” he thought out loud, no one to hear his words except himself, “the mark remains still.” 

Dream tilted his head ever so slightly, and an idea formed in his head.

_ 10. _

He stared at the paper before him, a messy scrawl of words as his pen tapped against the marble of his kitchen counter tunelessly. It was personal, maybe a bit too personal, but he didn’t need to release it. It could sit in a folder of ideas, shoved into a drawer haphazardly, never to be touched for years to come.

Patches leaped up onto the island, and Dream smiled as she tucked her head into his palm. He grabbed his phone and opened Snapchat, ready to send George a photo of his cat being obnoxious, but stopped while typing a caption.

George.

Dream bit his lip as his eyebrows pinched together, and Patches looked up at him with wide eyes.  _ It could all just end like this,  _ she seemed to be saying, and he recoiled slightly, shock scrawled onto his features. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he stood up, paper in hand as he crumpled it up and tossed it in the recycling. 

He was determined to forget about this, because everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want you to know that this google doc is literally called '12k+ words of emotional distress pog?' and i have no regrets  
>  ~~also this half of the fic doesnt have an outline so it might end up being a hot mess~~
> 
> [i made another character-specific playlist and this one goes hard](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pzUbyCtZ5unrzeOoNvNlQ?si=Nb_hqh7UTF2VNvO4MWfZ0w) (i have one for george too so lmk if you want it www)


	11. lover; honey; daisy; only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream was used to losing things. He was forgetful, misplacing objects of sentimental value, lost to the sands of time as they fall behind his shelf, his desk, his bed, never to be found again until he finds it in himself to rearrange his furniture, dusting off old memories as he turns them over in his hands.

Two months.

That was all he had to do. All he had to do was last two months without his best friend- all Dream had to do was watch winter wither away slowly, the heat beginning to nip at his skin, late nights and early mornings spent in silence most days.

Dream was fine. 

He checked Twitter, he recorded videos- he streamed occasionally, careful with his words as he brushed aside donations and questions about George. Guilt pricked his heart whenever he watched Sapnap play middle-man as they danced around one another, skirting the edges of the ballroom in worn clothes as Sapnap stood between them, a burning bridge.

Guilt was something he was very familiar with, nowadays.

It rooted itself deep in his soul, wandering behind him like a second shadow, hovering over him as he spoke to his friends.  _ “Are you okay?”  _ He asked Sapnap, the words familiar on his tongue, painful like poison. 

And Sapnap always brushed him off. He brushed him off with a half-hearted excuse, something that Dream never found a reason to question, because why would he? Sapnap had no reason to lie to him, they had been friends for years. They were warm, open, welcoming.

But Sapnap closed the door, and Dream didn’t bother to open it.

They wallowed in comfortable silence, a question- an offer, an open hand- hovering between them, waiting an answer.  _ “Yeah, I’m fine. The new semester started not too long ago, so I’m just trying to get used to the new schedule and stuff,”  _ Sapnap said, the words circling his head slowly.

Dream knew he was lying- he knew that Sapnap wasn’t being honest. Dream knew, and he wanted to call bullshit, but he couldn’t find it in him to do so. He valued honesty, yes, but Sapnap didn’t lie without a reason.

  
So Dream accepted the answer easily- he didn’t question it when Sapnap left the call, the excuse of homework, gentle farewells passing between them.

He felt hollow as he leaned back in his chair, the silence wrapping its cold, shackled hands around his throat, choking him, suffocating him-

_ 11. _

_ “Are you alright?”  _ His mother asked over the phone, concern coloring her tone, common in its familiarity. Dream was used to these calls- when he would put on his rose-tinted glasses and pretend like everything was okay, pretend like he wasn’t drowning in the absence of one of the steadiest forces in his life.

Dream laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his head, fingers weaving between threads of golden hair. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me.”

  
  
_ “Are you sure?”  _ She fretted, words quick and precise.  _ “You haven’t been calling very recently, and you cancelled dinner the other day-” _

“I’m fine, I promise. Work just picked up a bit, but everything’s fine. I just got busy.” Dream’s eyes wandered to the bottom right of his screen, cursor following suit shortly. He clicked on the time, the date taunting him as the seconds ticked by.

She hummed, suspicion high in her tone. But she let it drop- she bid her farewells and made him promise to come by, to sit down with her, to have dinner- and then the call ended unceremoniously. Dream let his head fall backwards, pulling his headphones on and letting himself drown in the sounds pulsing gently through the speakers.

It was familiar, something steady, something constant. 

Everything was going to be okay.

_ 11. _

His eyes burned from staring at his screen for far too long, synth-wave music blaring in his ears as he frowned at the IDE. Dream sighed, rubbing his wrists as he thought. Coding plugins weren’t very hard in actuality, he was just out of practice. Dream usually payed George to throw them together, the older man’s work clean and precise, years of practice and a degree backing him as he wrote the lines with ease.

Dream didn’t have that on his side. He had the credentials, yes, he knew what he was doing, but this wasn’t his area of expertise. Dream liked to  _ write,  _ he liked to craft stories with his hands and make them come to life. He was fond of Homeric similes, of close relation with the Google Doc that was deleted a few days after writing something he slowly came to hate.

So as his fingers locked on his keyboard, stiff from unnatural movements, pushing down on the keys with far too much force, Dream became frustrated. He became frustrated with himself, with what was happening, with how his strongest relationships were falling apart and he was just letting it happen. With the code, with the music in his headset, with the way the world was falling on its side and he couldn’t  _ do  _ anything-

Hands hit the surface of his desk with a slam, and Patches’ head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide. Dream grabbed his mouse and closed the IDE, shutting off his PC as the music cut out. Fuck, what was he doing? It wasn’t like this mattered- he had time. He had time to work on this, he had time to piece together the porcelain scattered across his office floor, he had time to find old Elmer's glue and scotch tape and clumsily put the teacup back together.

He had time.

_ 11. _

_ Tic Toc,  _ the clock said, taunting in tone.

_ Shut up,  _ he snapped.  _ S̵̨̚h̷̦̲̊ū̶̳ẗ̷̛͍̬́ ̷̪̠͒u̴̱̟͆p̴̩͑.̶̘̄̕ _

_ 11. _

Inhale-

_ “I’m sorry, Dream,”  _ George’s words shook his body and rattled his lungs, his friend’s voice filled with static and pain, fuzzy enough to be heard but distant enough to be foreign.  _ “I’m so fucking sorry.” _

Dream felt it all fall apart- the memories he cherished, the words he held so close to his chest, years upon years recorded on an old cassette tape- it all came to a stop, breaking to pieces as the sticky note fell to the ground.

_ i luv u, srry _

-Exhale.

_ “What do I call you now? A friend? A lover? An ex? What is this?”  _ Dream bit his lip, eyes dry as he watched his hands shake. It wasn’t supposed to end like this- it was supposed to end as they drifted apart, their lives consuming them, pulling them away from one another as they slowly forgot, memories of polaroid pictures and crayon markings on the walls thrown into an old cardboard box in the basement to be touched on years later.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, oxygen disappearing from his room and dust collecting in his lungs. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, glazed words and tired voices as they bid their final farewells, a goodbye to an era, a happier time long gone.

“We need to stop, George.” His voice broke as the words disrupted the silence, rippled atop the lake, mercilessly throwing it all out of balance.

Dream felt his heart break a little as George said, confused and alone,  _ “...What?” _

“We can’t do this anymore, George. I’m- I’m sorry, dude.” No, no don’t let him go like this- panic bubbled in his chest as his vision blurred, thorns digging into his chest and ripping him apart, an open cavity for a flower garden to bloom from.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

His chest ached as the rhythm of the words stabbed him, pain flourishing in that familiar cavity. It tore him apart, merciless as it ravaged Dream’s body. He left the call silently, tears threatening to overflow and spill onto his keyboard. 

Headset clattering onto his desk, Dream’s fingers, slightly deformed from past injuries, carded through his hair as his head fell forwards. Elbows holding him up, Dream let the tears fall, his room dead silent as they hit the table softly.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Dream leaned back in his chair, head reclining to stare at the ceiling. He listened as Patches pushed open the door and trotted over to his desk, leaping onto the table and pushing her head against his hands. 

The awkwardness from the past months evaporated, liberating him from the prison cell he was locked in. A wet chuckle fell from parted lips, regret and guilt and confusion and fear coursing through Dream’s veins. 

Dream was used to losing things. He was forgetful, misplacing objects of sentimental value, lost to the sands of time as they fall behind his shelf, his desk, his bed, never to be found again until he finds it in himself to rearrange his furniture, dusting off old memories as he turns them over in his hands.

Dream was used to losing things, and he liked to hold things, and in turn people, at a distance.

George and Sapnap were the exceptions- George and Sapnap were who kept him grounded, who talked him down with soft words when he got frustrated with himself, who laughed with him over the smallest things, who’s calls went through do not disturb mode, who supported him no matter what was happening.

But then George threw a rock at the mirror, pieces of glass scattered across the floor as they stared at one another from a distance. One of his strongest relationships fell apart, the one thing he tucked close to his chest and cherished more than his own life evaporating into thin air, stealing the oxygen from his lungs and his heart from his sleeve.

Dream was used to losing things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no regrets.  
> (also 1.5k hits?? 100 kudos??? thank you so much!!)


	12. you and me (lights that grew distant)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream dusted off the book, shoved beneath piles of anxieties and notices within his brain. He cracked open the cover and flipped through the pages delicately, pressed flowers and little post-it notes shoved between the aged pieces of paper.

Months of radio silence passed- winter faded away to spring, summer following swiftly in suit. His apartment was devoid of life- the few plants he had nurtured over the past years turning brown and ugly from a lack of proper care.

Dream tapped his pencil gently against his thumb, random scribbles in a notebook he hadn’t open for years sitting before him as he watched Karl stream, his friend’s voice familiar in the absence of another. Patches sat behind his monitor, curled neatly against the stand as her body rose and fell gently.

He bit his lip as he stared down at the paper, leaning back in his chair and picking up the paper slightly, absentmindedly. Dream’s chest ached as he listened to Karl laugh, Sapnap quipping back easily, tone feisty and light-hearted.

Hands crawled up his face to rub at his tired eyes, dry from being awake for hours on end. Dream craved sleep like he craved that adrenaline rush he got from speedrunning, from recording manhunts, from playing bedwars with George at ungodly hours of the night-

Dream felt like a character in a dragged out saga, trying to fill the hole in the story in the main character’s absence. A lack of enthusiasm, a story without a theme, unnecessary filler episodes in a show that should have ended two seasons ago.

Guilt seeped into his bones, resting its familiar head against his chest as it weighed him down.  _ You can’t avoid it forever,  _ it said, words filled with something he couldn’t quite place.  _ It’s your fault, after all. Can’t keep your friends around, can’t entertain a crowd, can’t feel a thing- what have you become? _

_   
_ _   
_ He bit his lip and willed it away.

Dream stared at his hands, shaking gently as the pencil fell from his grip, rolling over the lip of the table and hitting the wood floor coldly. Fragments of his being were strewn across the room, buried beneath piles of clothes and layers of untouched dust. 

Days passed quietly, nights filled with staticy laughter and bright monitor screens. He took to streaming more often, a lack of enthusiasm put into it as he sat alone in the call with Sapnap, sometimes completely by himself. He put on his mask and stepped onto the dancefloor, the masquerade he was so familiar with passing by in what felt like minutes. 

He would waltz with strangers and cradle champagne flutes, limbs mechanical and bolts caked with dried blood, metal clanging lightly beneath his skin. Dream weaved through conversations with people and posers alike, pretending to wear his heart on his sleeve like he was known for.

Pain laced his movements, something he was eerily familiar with. He found himself going back to George often, replaying their last conversations like they were yesterday. His friend’s words followed him around, a ghost in an abandoned manor, haunting him day in and day out. It was sickening, honestly.

So Dream watched Sapnap fall apart from a distance, quiet questions deflected with what seemed like truthful excuses. Guilt nestled itself in his chest neatly, cold beside his heart. He sat in silence most days, listening to unsaid words echo in his head, a familiar London accent rolling through his ears. 

He fell apart slowly, bones deteriorating as their dust was swept away by the wind. Dream was tired in a way he wasn’t familiar with, exhaustion weighing him down and shackling him to his bed every once in a while. 

Once a month he would pick up the pieces of his heart, clean his room, eat something other than week old takeout from the Thai restaurant a couple blocks away. Turn on his PC, do some work- call Sapnap, maybe some others, play Minecraft, laugh for a while. He felt like a person those days; he felt real. 

_ 12. _

Dream was having a good day- he had edited a video and scheduled it, chatted with Quackity and Karl, and was now playing bedwars with Sapnap and Callahan. Everything was fine- he laughed, he smiled, he teased his friends in a light-hearted manner.

They answered donation questions, held banter with chat- everything was fine. It had been months, the November chill biting at his fingertips. He felt light, a weight removed from his chest as he breathed for the first time in months. 

He felt light.

_ 12. _

_ “Oh, yeah, we should probably talk about that.”  _ Dream froze at Sapnap’s words, feeling his hands clench around the hem of his sweatshirt. The world went blank as Sapnap rattled of the question, Bad’s laughing muffled in the background as he bit his lip. 

He found himself opening a conversation he deleted all those months ago, fingers shaking as he pressed down on the keys slowly. 

**Dream** could you join the call? we want to explain some things and i think it’d be better if everyone was here. its fine if you dont want to though, we can make up an excuse or something.

He prayed that George would say no, that he would have something going on, or just that he wouldn’t reply.

But since when has Dream gotten what he wanted?

  
  
**GeorgeNotFound** give me a minute, i need to finish something first.

_ Fuck. _

_ 12. _

**dt updates!** _@dttwtupdates_

george is on sapnap’s stream!

**dt updates!** _@dttwtupdates -_

and no im not joking, he’s actually there

_ 12. _

Dream sighed as he leaned back in his seat, his time as a Greek god coming to a close. Explanations were given, memories dredged up from below the murky waters. They sat in silence, the coveted ‘feral boys’ alone in a voice call, adrenaline leaving their systems after their first stream together in months. Comforting words were passed between old friends, bones heavy and souls light.

Gentle laughter filled the call every now and then, a cracked joke falling just barely short. Each bid their farewells as the night passed overhead- Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, each of them wishing those remaining in the call a good night before leaving.

It was comforting.

And soon enough he found himself drenched in silence, alone with George in the voice channel as neither said a word. Dream cast is gaze downwards, watching as Patches pawed at his leg gently. He smiled and reached down, picking her up delicately, as though she may break at any moment.

“Do you remember the shock collar stream?” He found himself asking, an olive branch extended between them as he searched for a reason to stay in the voice call, to stay awake. “And how scared I was?”

  
  
Dream smiled at the familiarly distant sound of George’s soft snort, a suppressed laugh erupting from his throat gently.  _ “Oh, you were terrified.” _

He found himself rambling about everything and anything as his fingers laced through Patches’ fur, her head hitting his chin every once in a while as he moved his free hand animatedly from time to time. A soft smile found its way onto his features as George responded in tandem to his words. 

_ “Remember when that one fic blew up? Shit, what was it called- uh, Heat Waves?” _

Dream froze momentarily. “Yeah, that was wild. I actually read it recently, finally.” He didn’t know what he was saying- it had sat bookmarked on his account for months, and Dream found himself reading it in the dead of night during the summer. 

_ “Really?”  _ He laughed at the surprise in George’s voice.

“The writing was really good. I guess that’s one point for the TL,” Dream supplied, honesty clear in his words. “Song’s a banger, too.”

_ “I mean, yeah. It’s Glass Animals, what were you expecting?”  _ George shot back lazily, their familiar banter a reference to an era long gone. Dream smiled softly, remembering the late summer nights he spent with George, fond words abiding by their unspoke rules, now broken and shattered to pieces.

Dream dusted off the book, shoved beneath piles of anxieties and notices within his brain. He cracked open the cover and flipped through the pages delicately, pressed flowers and little post-it notes shoved between the aged pieces of paper. 

They reminisced about an easier time, when they were comfortable in one another's silence, when they felt at ease in each other’s presence. When Dream’s calls went through George’s do not disturb, when they would send blurry mirror selfies over Snapchat, teasing and light-hearted as George playfully asked for a face reveal.

The crayon markings on the walls and the residue left from peeled off stickers stood before them, marring the previously blank canvas with their personalities, their fears, their joys, their anxieties. 

“Can we talk again?” Dream asked as he watched the sun start to filter through his blinds. “Can we try again?” It was rhetorical, his question- but he left a small sliver of hope behind in his words, high in the silence between them. “Can we go back and laugh like we used to? Can we talk again, as if nothing happened?”

George hummed softly, the sound filled with static.  _ “I’m sorry, Dream. I’m so fucking sorry.”  _ George’s voice was small and quiet, not the harsh sob that racked his body all those months ago.  _ “We can’t.” _

His cheeks were damp when George left the call.


	13. day & night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t going to lose anyone he loved like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fin._
> 
> (also heres the youtube playlist- maybe put it on shuffle bc theres some very specific songs and edits on there: [day & night: youtube edition](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkmL2CAW5j5nOVhy_aFIZOfAsEr6mOkK-))

Clay listened as the radio faded in and out, driving along the interstate as he had done so many times before. The motions were easy, familiar as he got onto an exit he knew all too well. The world was dark as he drove, silent, not daring to breathe too loudly so as to disturb the dust coating the backseat.

He pulled into the parking lot as he had done so many times before, turning the car off and getting out, locking it behind him as his feet hit the cold concrete below. Clay’s movements were slow as he rounded the car, stepping up onto the hood and onto the roof.

With heavy bones he settled onto the cold metal, letting his legs dangle off the side of the car and hit the windows gently. His hands held him up as Clay let his head roll back, staring up at the sky above. It was dark, little flecks of white paint splattered against the black canvas. 

His breath trailed upwards from his lips, faint clouds flying away into the frigid night. Clay reached up blindly, a vain effort to steal the oxygen back into his lungs. For a moment, it felt like the world revolved around him- as though he was the sun and the buildings surrounding him were the planets. 

The sounds of teenagers laughing in the distance, heavy bass high in the air. Champagne flutes clacking against one another from a balcony, people shuffling alone across the streets- the ambient noise was comforting, familiar in how foreign it was. 

His phone vibrated against the cold metal of the roof, the screen lighting up with a text message from a number he never had the heart to block. Clay listened as the phone rang, a familiar jingle faint as he reached over and muted it. 

It was surreal, sitting alone in an abandoned 7-eleven parking lot, the neon lights from the store faint as he listened to people count down, voices rising as the clock went _tic, toc._

“Shut up,” he whispered half-heartedly. He didn’t care that the year was ending, he didn’t care that it was over. A chapter in a book people would look back on, flipping through the pages, filled with nostalgia for something that seemed like pure fiction to them. “Shut up.”

  
  
Laughter floated through the air, loud cheers erupting from a house a couple streets down. Clay let a small smile slip onto his lips as he leaned back, laying down on the roof of the car. Fireworks exploded, blazing through the sky as sparks flirted with one another gently. 

Clay reached for his phone as it vibrated once again, opening his iMessages and opening well wishes and happy new year messages alike. But his fingers hesitated over George’s contact, unsure if he would be crossing a line by wishing George a good new year. 

He bit his lip as he opened the conversation, old messages staring back at him, dating to a kinder time. _Fuck it,_ he thought, typing out a simple ‘happy new year’ and sending it. Clay stared down at the phone, the world weighing him down ever so slightly.

The stars dipped down into his lungs, scooping out the smoke he held in his lungs as a message popped up on his screen.

**George** i luv u, srry.

_13._

_You and me, lights that grew distant_

_Now a distance that can’t be closed_

_You’re still stopped in place_

_Shining on me so dizzily_

_13._

Nick let himself breathe for the first time in months. He kept his head far above water, steadily working through the new semester. He would call George when he needed help, the elder explaining concepts to him evenly with examples pertaining to his interests. They would laugh lightly as the two of them poured over lines of code for hours, cursors taunting them quietly as they cracked programming jokes every once in a while.

Nick let himself feel for the first time in months. He speedran Minecraft for himself, he played CS:GO, he cooked himself full meals, he chugged water like his life depended on it. He took care of himself, resting when he had to, becoming close acquaintances with the mental health day.

Clay and George, despite talking to one another minimally, were constants in his life. Their friendships were covered in scotch tape and overgrown ivy, filled with nostalgia and jamais vu, the sensation of knowing a person, but relearning their mannerisms, dancing around one another as you orbit the same planets.

  
Their differences came to the surface, hobbies and movie tastes, small squabbles over fickle things. Clay liked classics, pouring over old literature and dissecting it as his tea went cold. He had a fascination with words, with the structure of sentences, with the rhythm of spoken word. Nick had spent nights listening to the older ramble about the meter of song lyrics, the usage of emotion in writing, in the syllables of poetry, of the form and style of literature.

He always listened as Clay waxed poetic about the meter of foreign languages, of the phonic details and precise syllables of things he couldn’t understand. Of unconnected figurative, of emotive statements, of the romance of the flow in certain words and sentences. 

Nick remembered a time where Dream fawned over the word ‘useless’ in a language he couldn’t quite place, the strong ‘s’ and the rounded ‘o’ syllables, tempered by an ‘n’. 

_“It’s just something I think is cool,”_ Clay had said when Nick asked about it. _“English is a cluttered language, taking notes from others. We’re thieves, Nick, even down to the way we speak. French, Greek, Korean, Thai, German- they all have very unique sounds.”_

 _  
_ _  
_ _“You really would’ve been an English major, huh,”_ Nick had responded lightly, laughing softly as Clay defended his stance as a formerly-projected classics major. 

He thinks he understands why Clay is so fascinated with words, now. The thorns in his sides he felt after listening to his friends break down, the emptiness in his soul after that fated phone call with George in November. Bird song voices and art house words were familiar to him now, poetic phrases haunting him at midnight. _“It feels like there's a hole in my chest and like my lungs aren’t big enough, like I don’t have enough oxygen. But then you come along, and I can breathe again.”_

_“You’re what keeps me breathing; I need you like oxygen.”_ They played in his head like a broken record, repeating as the sound skipped every once in a while. The words are what sting after apologies, whether they be heartfelt or not, Nick found. 

It made Nick happy, knowing that his friends had things outside of what they considered their jobs that they enjoyed. George had spent thirty minutes once, months ago, simply talking about colors and what little he knew about flowers. They had a recent conversation where George discussed how fond he had grown of plants, of how they helped him, of how they drew life into his otherwise dead apartment. 

He had rambled about the different types of pothos, of lowlight plants and low-water plants, of how to take care of flowers, how to propagate, how to recover plants that were being lost to disease. Nick offered his two cents of information every now and then, memories of his sister flooding her room with easy to care for plants surfacing at George’s interest.

George would talk about the different meanings of flowers, how they varied from culture to culture. He would also wax poetic about colors every once in a while, as well as make small references to art that Nick never understood. _“I was almost an Art History major,”_ George had told him once, an idea that left Nick shocked. _“Weird, right?”_

 _  
_ _  
_ _“I can’t see you doing anything other than computer science,”_ Nick had said easily. George had laughed, and continued discussing what he knew of color theory and depth. He still did, every now and then, but it was in moderation; he talked about plants more, now a days.

And during those conversations with George and Clay alike, Nick always uncovered something he didn’t know, whether it be a story or something so insignificant it could be a footnote in one of their biographies. The relationships were sometimes fragile and unsteady, yes, but Nick always made sure that they were okay. 

He wasn’t going to lose anyone he loved like this.

_13._

_Different from the start_

_Everything was like that_

_Our hobbies, even movie tastes_

_I know this is the ending we all knew_

_But why do my thoughts get so complicated_

_This can’t go on, I have to stop_

_I know but_

_Like a habit, I walk towards your light_

_When will I be able to stop_

_13._

George leaned against the boxes piled in his flat, steadily working through their contents. He wasn’t quite sure what was in them at this point- it had been a little over a year since he bothered to check. But with the start of a new year, he bullied himself into finally going through them. 

So he ran his fingers over objects he hadn’t seen in ages, sentimental value attached to a few, setting some aside to get rid of later. Cat pawed at his chest every once in a while, demanding attention with soft mewls and gentle headbutts. 

Old sheet music, aged at the edges, a few photos of his family, notebooks and small mementos he couldn’t be bothered with. He collapsed the boxes with finality, propping them against the wall beside his door. George sighed as he wandered back to the kitchen, staring at the small field notebook on the table. 

George thumbed through the pages, sticky-notes with messy handwriting stuck to the pages, photos he had printed of his friends and family hidden here and there. A photo of Nick with his cat, a blurry mirror selfie of Clay. He smiled sadly as he turned the page, a pressed daffodil and a small sprig of creeping willow awaiting him. 

His breath caught in his throat slightly. He bit his lip and flipped through his memories once more, pulling out a photo of Nick every now and then, pictures of his family, pictures of a reunion from university and college. He ripped out certain pages, leaving some behind. 

George wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions- he knew, his friends knew, his family knew, his former fans knew. Expression wasn’t something he was very good at, and neither was recognizing emotions. So when something singed his ears and seemed to set his world aflame, George grabbed a lighter from a drawer in his desk. 

He leaned out on the small balcony he had, a balcony overlooking a thin canal. Using his elbows to hold his weight, George leaned against the railing casually, lighter and notebook in hand. He tore out the pages, photos of someone he couldn’t bring himself to let go off tucked between the aged paper. 

  
George listened as his phone rang from inside his flat, the faint bass of his music shaking his bones as the distant sounds of dogs barking and cars driving by surrounded him. 

With a sigh, the frigid February evening freezing his breath, George held the pages out and turned on the lighter. He watched emotionless as the flames ate at the paper, everything he regretted, everything he loved, every anxiety, every thought burning before his eyes. 

He opened his hand, the burning paper peony falling from his fingers and fluttering down to meet the water. 

And George walked away.

_13._

_Baby, maybe_

_We’ve been hurt so much_

_Love you, hate you_

_A gap in temperature between changed hearts_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go drink some water, i know you at least teared up.  
> happy valentines day! its weird knowing that i got the timing to work out like this. i honestly didnt know if i was going to be done with this fic at the end of february or early march, so its nice knowing that i can do things ahead of schedule.  
> i was going to write a sequel, but im not sure if i should, at this point. i think this is something that should be left open for interpretation- theres a couple loose threads i didnt bother tying up, and honestly i dont think i will. i might come back to this in a couple months, re-inspired to write that sequel, but for right now i dont think its going to happen. (im probably gonna write for mcyt again though)  
> feel free to ask questions in the comments, and i’ll do my best to answer them ^^  
> anyway, thank you so much for reading! friendly reminder that youre amazing, and i love you so much <3 get up, stretch, go eat something if you havent had a meal in a couple hours.  
> and so i bid you farewell.  
> w/luv lux

**Author's Note:**

> this was gonna haunt me if i didn't write it, and i need to public embarrass myself at least once a month so why not have it be this?  
> i know this was probably a bit rushed, but i wrote it all in one go and i can't be bothered to go back and fix it. hopefully at least one person can enjoy this, so,,, thankq for reading!  
> in other news i put together a BANGER playlist for this so thats literally the only good thing thats going to come from this: [day & night](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3TGq9yL1v6hapNX1cSSSWl?si=aufsuVVhTf2zcjZERUc5VQ)  
> (i also have a yt playlist w some songs on it that arent available on spotify so let me know if anyone wants the link)  
> [shameless twitter plug](https://twitter.com/hhbyte)
> 
> again, thank you for reading! :D


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